Depopulation of the open spaces.

When I was a little nerd reading science fiction in the late sixties and early seventies one of the more chilling themes visited by writers was the depopulation of the open spaces. Typically the story would have all humanity aggregated into super cities and the farms worked by robots with little or no human intervention. I think the aspect of these stories that touched me was the sense of loss of our connection to the planet. Also of the loss of small communities with their quirks, their hopes, their dreams large and small, and their sense of enduring place.

I should note my perspective on this. I am a country kid, born and raised in Ohio. We had goats, chickens, rabbits and a large garden. We roamed the country side on foot and by bike. We were well connected to the land we grew up on. We played in the creek at the edge of the front yard, we swam in the river about a half mile from our house. We built forts and hide outs. We imagined grand mythologies that we played out in the fields and woods surrounding us. We had, even as youngsters, a strong sense of place. A sense that this was a special spot on the face of the planet and that we were lucky to be there.

As I grew older I began to realize how unusual my growing up experience was. Even in the 70's being a kid from a farm or homestead was very rare. And even as I was realizing how unusual my beloved homestead was I was realizing that there was no future for me there. That there was no community of like minded people, no decent employment to be had, and no eduction available beyond high school. If I wanted a non dead end future for myself it would be in the city. My brother and I struggled with this for years, not wanting to let go of our beloved homestead at the same time we realized that there was no future there. Our story is by no means a unique one. It is a part of the greater story of the depopulation of great swathes of the American countryside. A community of any size, large or small, is tasked with providing a future for it's youth if it wants to survive. Small communities in America have been unable to do that and as they become hollowed out by the loss of their youth, they lose their future and begin to become ghost towns. The physical landscape of these places holds stories and memories. Stories of hope and promise, followed by stories of loss, longing, and melancholy. And when the people are gone their stories become ghosts themselves.

Now, on that note I urge you to read a really touching essay and pictorial in the Jan. 2008 issue of National Geographic that covers a piece of this story in N. Dakota. Also you can check Norwegian Immigration, for a bit of history of the forces that drove immigration to these places. This linked essay speaks about immigration to Minnesota but equally applies to next door North Dakota.

In future posts I'll write about some of the things that make a good and vibrant community. We have in Alameda a special place to live. People may arrive in Alameda by accident but they choose to stay because the community offers them something. That something may be hard to quantify or very specific. To close this post, ask yourself why you landed here and what being in Alameda means to you.