Leaving Acorn Abbey

This true people took the stranger

And warm hearted housed the ranger

They received their roving guest

And have fed him with the best.

-doggerel, though fitting doggerel, that Thoreau wrote upon leaving the Emerson household, where he lived and worked as their handyman/ groundskeeper.

Simplifying

(Coldfoot is where the red thingy is)

As I mentioned in my concluding post, I am moving out of North Carolina and heading up to Alaska to be Coldfoot’s first-ever “writer in residence.” In two days, I will follow a rather complicated travel plan to get there:

1. David drives me from his home to Winston-Salem (free)

2. Take a bus to High Point, N.C. ($2)

3. Take a train to Durham, N.C. ($14)

4. Take a Megabus to Washington D.C. ($5)

5. Take a subway to the D.C. airport ($2?)

6. Fly to L.A, then Seattle, then Fairbanks ($150)

7. Walk to North Alaska Tour Company’s offices in town.

8. Figure out how to get to Coldfoot, which is 250 miles to the north.

Frankly, I’ll be surprised if I get there.

While my travel plans may be complex, I’ve taken strides to simplify other aspects of my life. Because the Megabus only allows one large piece of luggage, I’ve had to condense pretty much my whole life into a large backpack. So I gave away lots of stuff from the van to Goodwill–my linens, my storage container, my cutting board, etc.–and threw out some ratty clothes.

I’d like to take a moment to say farewell to a couple of fine products that have served me well these past few years.

My cutting board, frying pan, etc.

Storage container and linens.

This was my first backpack. It’s traveled with me to Alaska, up Blue Cloud, on two cross-country hitchhikes, and on many other adventures. The bottom of the backpack was full of holes, it was missing half of its plastic snaps, and most of its tightening straps had vanished. I bought this thing for $30 off eBay in May 2005 and it’s been a loyal piece of equipment since.

This Pierre Cardin suitcase has probably been with me for ten years. At Duke, it served as my dresser drawer, holding all my clothes. When I ate in the van, I’d rest my feet on it which gradually took a toll on the material. None of the zippers work on it anymore.

Last but not least are my dear sweatpants. I’ve had these for about a decade. They were a curious pair of pants. They seemed to get longer and longer, no matter how many times I ripped off the tattered edges around my ankles. I must have ripped away about a foot of cloth from each leg, yet the pants still brush against the ground. I didn’t have any more room in my new pack, so I had to make one final cut unfortunately. Goodbye, dear sweatpants!

I guess you could say I have two types of possessions. I have a collection of “long-term possessions” and a set of “need-now possessions.” I sent 60 pounds of long-term stuff home to my parents house–things I don’t need now but may want in the future: important books, dress clothes, and sentimental items like a pair of moccasins.

Here are all my need-now possessions:

Stuff I mailed to Coldfoot, AK:

27 books

Pair of slippers

Pair of sneakers

Winter coat

Notebook

Shampoo

3 pairs of wool socks

5 pairs of short socks

Expedition-rated thermals

5 crappy white tees

Bottle of aqueous wax

Stuff I’ll be carrying

Laptop

Camera

Phone with pre-paid minutes

Sleeping bag

1-person tent

Water bottle

Compass

GPS

Leatherman

Hunting knife

Towel

2 books

Backpacking stove

Water filter

Wrist watch

Small camping supplies: matches, lighters, etc

3 pairs of pants

2 pairs of shorts

2 pairs of wools socks

7 pairs of underwear

Flannel pants

Thermal underwear

Baseball cap

6 shirts

Rain coat and rain pants

Backpack rainproof cover

Small travel bag with basic toiletries

Hiking boots

Here’s a picture of me carrying everything but the mailed package. (The backpack was a graduation gift from my family.)

I must also report (with some mixed feelings) that I have not sold the van. I had it up on Craigslist for nearly a month and had no bites. I lowered it from $2,150 to $1,800 and finally to $1,500. A family member of a friend showed interest but she lives in NY and didn’t have the money just yet. I got my first phone inquiry two days ago from a young man in Stokes County who inquired if I’d accept his “guns” as part of a trade deal, which I, needless to say, turned down.

Today I turned my plate in and canceled my insurance. Since I’ll be getting room and board in Coldfoot, I no longer have one bill of any sort in my life, which is a first for me. (I promised Coldfoot Camp that I’d work one day a week without pay for room and board.)

So I guess the van will stay here in North Carolina at David’s for the summer. I wish I could have gotten rid of this rather large possession, but sometimes I think things don’t work out for a reason. We’ll see.

Why aren’t we revolutionaries?

David—a boomer who lived through the 60’s—recently posted an entry noting the curious absence of revolutionary discourse among today’s twenty-somethings. It’s an interesting topic of discussion. While my generation has hardly dabbled with civil disobedience, his generation protested the Vietnam War, took part in civil, women’s, and environmental rights crusades, and caused havoc on college campuses and city streets everywhere.

In my 27 years, I don’t think I’ve once heard even a murmuring of revolution. Yet, things are hardly peachy keen. In addition to global warming, suburban sprawl, and a mind-boggling disparity of wealth between the mega-rich and everyone else, my generation must deal with record-breaking loads of student debt and an alarming scarcity of jobs. In July 2010, 51.1% of 16-to-24 year olds didn’t have jobs. (The official unemployment rate—which takes the desire to have a job into account—was still an unreasonably high 19.1 percent.) We are jobless, indebted, and disenchanted with politics.

The unemployment numbers are almost as bad as several of the Middle Eastern nations that recently experienced youth-led rebellions. Twenty-five percent of Egypt’s youth were unemployed, similar to Tunisia’s 30%. Young people coping with poor job markets have led protests in European countries like Spain, which has a 45% youth unemployment rate, and the UK, which has a 20%.

So the question begs to be asked: Why isn’t my generation rebellious? Why aren’t Americans protesting? Why aren’t we causing hell like the disenchanted 60’s generation?

1. Things may be bad, but I guess they aren’t bad enough. While we have a similar unemployment rate, Egyptian youth—at the time of the revolution—were much worse off. Not only did 40% of Egyptians live on $2 a day, but their rights were severely curbed by an authoritative regime. Things may be bad here, but even the most desperate college grad could get a job at McDonald’s for $6 an hour. And even though we have the Patriot Act, it’s not nearly as egregious as some of Mubarak’s measures.

2. There is no clear enemy. We have no Nixon, no Mubarak, not even a W. Bush to fight. So just what wall needs to be torn down and just who needs to be brought to justice? The problem is that our enemies are amorphous; they’re not even human, really. It’s not the CEO who lays off his employees and outsources jobs to third-world countries who’s to blame; it’s the economic system in which he’s immured that forces him to resort to such callous measures. It’s more than just some crusty elite; it’s the system, free-market capitalism, globalization; it’s things we can neither tar and feather nor burn in effigy.

Let’s say that we do take down the ruling elite, storm the Capitol, and lay down a list of demands. We get universal health care, universal education, and we end pointless wars. Then what? It’s not like we can just create jobs out of thin air. (Even the youth in socialist Scandinavian countries face tough job markets. Among 15-to-24 year olds, 29% of Swedes are unemployed, as are 27 % of Fins, 16% of Icelanders, 13% of Danes, and—to a much lesser degree—9% of Norwegians.) Currently in America—as I pointed out in a previous post—there are 365,000 cashiers and 317,000 waiters and waitresses who have bachelor’s degrees, as do one-fourth of those working in the retail industry. More than 100,000 college graduates are brushing toilets as janitors and 18,000 are pushing carts. Is it a good thing if we lower the unemployment rate by creating more shitty, soul-less, cubicled jobs flipping burgers, answering phones, or selling useless crap? Over 1.5 million college students graduate each year. Do we really think that there should exist 1.5 million well-paying, fulfilling jobs for every graduating class? If those jobs were necessary, wouldn’t they already exist?

3. The truth has yet to set in. We young people are still hopeful. When we go to college, we imagine getting a good job right after we’re handed our diplomas. We imagine our debts vanishing into thin air. Yet this hasn’t been the case for a long-time, so it’s beyond me why these fantasies are still so prevalent. For a revolution to happen, reality must set in and hope must be crushed.

Concluding thoughts

Frankly, I’d love to see my generation become rebellious and get angry about student debt, college profiteers, and everything else that ails us. A lot of good would come of it, but I think we’d be merely treating side-effects than killing the disease that causes them.

The unemployment rate is a good indication of a country’s political, social, and economic stability. When we have jobs, we have purpose; we can move up, improve ourselves; we have the freedom to do what we wish with the money we earn. But I’m not comfortable saying things are satisfactory if the unemployment rate is 0% and 100% of us are employed at places like Wal-Mart, McDonalds, and offices raising our blood pressure and filing TPS reports. I think such a society is far from ideal, and in no way, shape or form attends to the needs of the human body, mind and soul.

Perhaps a violent or non-violent revolution would spur the powers that be to make substantial changes, but I can’t see a solution to my generation’s malaise without completely reimagining society, a society in which the idea of a “job”—which, as we know, is a manmade invention—doesn’t even exist.

Radical thought: Perhaps the solution is simplicity. What if we create our own economy, sort of like the Amish have? (There is, after all, no such thing as an unemployed Amishman.) With a local, agrarian-based economy, we’d have an endless supply of fulfilling labor—the sort of work that makes families tight and communities thrive; the sort that would wean us off the government and make corporations crumble.

I suppose this thought is nothing new. Hippie communes popped up in the 60’s and 70’s, and it’s evident that they didn’t last long. Why would ours be any less fleeting? And how feasible is this for a world that’s overpopulated—one where open space isn’t exactly abundant?

The question remains: What’s to be done with millions of jobless young people who seem to have no cause, no purpose whatsoever? Any thoughts? (Por favor: All I ask is that we keep the discussion sane and civil.)