Updating the Old World View

I'm part of an ownership group of a family cabin in northern Minnesota, a cabin which has been in my family for over 100 years.  Initially it was my great grandfather's, but it's slowly moved down the family ladder, now partially landed in my lap, and the laps of my second cousins.  Eventually the ownership issue will be a mess, unless we can come up with a solution for all future families, or one of the ownership members wins the lottery.

Since it's only (at best) an April to September place, and since the owners who use it are scattered across the country, we've had to get a local from the area to be the official caretaker; someone to keep an eye on the place.  We've had numerous caretakers over the years, usually one of the few people who lived year round on the lake, and hence best positioned for the job.  It's hard to find a caretaker, mainly because up until the 1980's there just weren't too many people to choose from, so when we got one, it's generally been a lifetime position.

That being said, we've been lucky.  The locals we've found have been great.  Fifteen years ago and beyond, these guys were essential, having to come up with 'made from scratch' solutions for major plumping, electrical, erosion, tree, and heating problems.  These caretakers were from the area, with a never ending clever litany of local solutions for problems which would've easily be solved if the cabin was located in a medium size metro area.

Not that long ago, getting to northern Minnesota was an adventure.  Back then Hwy. 33 from Cloquet to US 53 was a simple logging road with attitude, and 53 was a glorified bog trail as you veered your way north.  Duluth was the nearest shipping point for any major repair item.  And it wasn't just the big items which were scarce. I remember when my mom would come into the Iron Range, go to three of the small local grocers, buying out their various inventories just so she could put together a menu for 12 people for three weeks.

Things today are different.  Highway 33 is a quality four lane road more akin to suburbia, and 53 soon will be four lanes all the way from Duluth to International Falls.  The lake community is no longer mostly seasonal cabins, having made the change with the expanded roadway to a more suburban locale for the residents of the nearby northern community.  Gone are the fishing shacks, replaced by 2000 square foot luxury homes.  The nearby town now has a major Target, Menards, two city style grocery stores and even a fine co-op for organic food; no need to haul to Duluth or make due with what you have.  We're ten miles from shopping more akin to Maple Grove, Woodbury and Eden Prairie.  And if we don't want to cook, there are at least five restaurants who'll deliver to our cabin today, and an even larger range of food options available for pick up (I still like cooking most of my own food, and with the fine grocery stores a hop, skip and a jump away, I easily can).

And there's the internet, in all it's stupendous glory, and insane demented psyche.  The days of begging a local to show pity and mercy on the 'out of their high end urban element' cabin owners desperately needing assistance are now limited.  Your cell phone provider is what helps you today.  Not only don't I need some jimmy-rigged Mesabi solution for my problem, I can pull up an online video series from the best people in any industry, "do-it-myself'ing" any problem I've got.

For larger issues, the service providers in the area, with the expanded population, are able to come fix their services quickly.  Large scale contractors from a 100 mile radius will bid on the larger projects we may have.

Which brings me to Boomer.  Boomer is our current caretaker, a flashback to the days of old, or at least he thinks he is.  Boomer is one of the dozens of now permanent residents of the lake.

Boomer treats me like I'm some sort of simpleton, labeling me a pathetic city brat who doesn't understand the difference between my ass and the hole in the ground.  This whole city verses local crap is pretty obnoxious.  One time, when we had a mouse problem in the cabin, I asked him if there were mouse traps in the cabin, or did I need to go buy some.  He took this as an opportunity to scold me for 'being naive,' my soft urban mind not understanding mice live in cabins in the north woods.  Rethinking what I had just asked him, I insisted I was only asking if I needed to go get some traps myself, adding it was no big deal since we had mice in our house in Spring.  He waved a hand at me and walked away, dismissing me further.

Boomer can't turn off the condescending attitude.  He grew up in a generation who despised the summer owners and hunting season visitors.  He wrapped himself in a false narrative; he didn't need anyone to bait his hook or fix a pump, unlike these soft visitors who invaded his lake every year.  If Boomer had his way, he'd have prevented all American foreigners from coming in, not grasping the Catch-22.  He and his family would've had to leave the Iron Range if they removed the money they got from seasonal patrons.  This isn't farming territory, we no longer offer a fine price for beaver pelts, lumbering your property offers a limited return on investment, and he doesn't have iron ore on his land.  Even being a fishing guide, the dream of most Northern Minnesota people, is dependent on the outsiders paying them, so without them, no guiding.

I respect Boomer, but it's as if he wants all seasonal visitors to come to his door, acknowledge how pathetic they are, heap praise on his nobel integrity, and wait for a thumbs up or down on whether thy can move into their cabins.

The hypocrisy of Boomer is how his life is no longer any different than Twin Cities metro life.  He applauded when the nicer stores opened (finally!).  The days of maintaining with bubble gum and prayers are long gone, as he no longer has to wait two weeks for a part or a screw to get mailed to him.  He has FAR more convenience and lifestyle options than he ever dreamed of having, along with digital cable and internet service.  Boomer might as well be in Bloomington.

And with the good comes the bad.  Small town America used to have a different type of society, not better, just different.  There was a different work ethic, child ethic, and local standards.  Those days are gone, with many small towns now having the same issues larger communities have:  unemployment due to downsizing, less active lifestyles creating more health problems, higher drug rates, homelessness, chronic alcoholism, violence and more.  In their quest to embrace modernism in an effort to convince the local kids to stick around after 18 and not move to the big city, they said goodbye to the "make due with what you had" lifestyle of the past.

I'm 48, mildly successful in my chosen career field, an Army veteran.  I've an amazing family, own my own house, where I do maintain and fix whatever I can.  I garden (quite well too) and I can fish with the best of them.  I've had adventures which would make you laugh, giggle, blush, gasp, passionate and envious, but...

I'm no better than anyone else.

We all have those things.  I'm no better being from the city than Boomer is being from the country.  If we continue to create fake boundaries built out spite, ignorance and jealousy which truly no longer exist on the existential plane, we'll never get ourselves out of the mess our country is in today.  Evil people with an agenda need the hollow walls between us to stay up, as it's the only way they can manipulate us to THEIR agenda.  We'll fail if we continue to propagate this nonsense.

I appreciate Boomer, even though he's massive pain in at the ass. I don't think he'll ever change, but maybe his granddaughter will, who I ran into the last time I was up north.  She just moved back to the Iron Range after finishing up college.  She was very cool plans, wanting to open up her own artist studio in town.  I was envious, but for the right reasons.  I offered to help her with my unique skill set anyway I can.  She gladly accepted.

We're keeping our rural/urban friendship secret from Boomer.  We don't think he'd approve.