Even the Squirrels are leaving...

Last weekend I traveled to north central Indiana to attend a friend’s wedding. This is a quick weekend trip that involved more time in the car than out of the car. I arrived in Wabash, Indiana with just enough time to find my hotel and get ready for my role as Guest-Book-Boy. I shared this position with another friend of the bride and former classmate.

As I drove from my hotel to the church I entered the center of a town that can only be described as Story Book Beautiful. My heart was captured. Wabash has a population that is not much bigger than my hometown of Olney. But what made it so captivating and beautiful? Was it the ever-changing topography? Was it the broad streets lined with local stores? or was it simply because it wasn’t Olney?

After a beautiful ceremony and a wonderful reception I stepped outside to a freshly rained street and realized what Wabash had over Olney. Pride…and maybe a little self respect. For as long as I have lived in Olney I have always been a little ashamed to admit it. Well, that isn’t entirely true. At least I’m not from Newton or God forbid Flora.

I love Olney. But that love alone cannot change a thing. I’ve joined groups, coalitions, non-profits, philanthropic organizations, and even attended a few local and regional board meetings. But I still live in a town that cannot pave streets, clean medians, paint stripes, change lights, encourage industry, and most important KEEP LOCAL BUSINESSES.

When I returned to Olney after my Wabash weekend I left the post office and turned the corner of our only business intersection to see a horror waiting before me. My heart stopped and a lump came to my throat as I saw a large “Going Out of Business” sign hanging from the side of my favorite store. After 49 years our last local clothing store and haberdashery was calling it quits. My emotion quickly turned form heartache to outright anger! Olney had shut down this store, and I no longer wanted to live in a town that would kill an institution that had served generations.

I’m still not happy. This town needs to change. I am from Olney, but I am not of Olney.

Recycle This, Lady. (Hand gesture here)

As i was walking into my new house today (80% moved in) I was stopped by the Crazy Neighbor Lady (CNL). I am in the process of moving...but not nearly far enough away from CNL. I'm moving all the way across the street in an effort to get into a larger house and no longer rent.

I have mentioned in previous blogs that CNL has a habit of going through my curbside recycling container that I leave under my carport. I first noticed this when my plastic salad containers started to show up on her front porch being used as little tiny greenhouses for her heirloom tomatoes. Whatever. But it got worse. One afternoon she had a computer question that required me to go into her house. What was on her coffee table? MY magazines!!! I'm not talking about anything dirty...but it certainly wasn't Time or People.

So today CNL was talking to me about baking in a Bundt pan. She seemed shocked that I had done it before. When she asked me my favorite type of cake to bake in a Bundt pan I responded with, "I have only made rum cake." CNL said, "Well I should have guessed that from going through your recycling bin."

I turned and walked away. Anger rushed upon me. As i was cleaning out things from the previous residence I formed the following letter in my mind. I printed it out and placed it...yes you guessed it...in my recycling bin. :)

**********

Dearest [CNL],

I have not said anything to you before when you admit to going through my recycling/trash mainly because it angers me to the point that I just need to walk away. Please stop. It is mine to do with what I wish. I do not need you going through my waste. There are things that I DO NOT recycle mainly because I know that you go through it. I’ve seen my magazines on your coffee table. There are magazines that I subscribe to in private and wish to dispose of in private. There are bills, and statements, photos, notes, and other personal items that I do not want you to see. Why? Because they are MINE.

I am requesting that you stop going through my recycling now and at my new address. Please excuse my means of communication; I am generally more direct than this. But more than direct…I am private. I intend to keep it that way.

All the Best,

Andrew