The production designers of this reality are hilarious. I've known enough of them to be able to spot their tricks. They put all kinds of hilarity into sets and props in the background of movies and television shows. Especially when they think that it won't end up on camera. I passed by the Ebenezer Baptist Church, which is a re-used background from my 'Atlanta' episode, and someone had put on the sign out front, thinking that no one would ever look close enough to read it, that the church was presided over by the Reverend James Brown. Hilarious. I have pictures.
I bet those services are fabulous.
There is a lake that is completely encircled by fencing. It is right in the middle of town. Nobody seems to care. Emily didn't even know that it existed. Maybe it didn't. What is the deal with it? Is it polluted? Is it a hideout for otherworldly beings? A staging ground for the production that is obviously taking place in this town, Truman Show style? Emily makes fun of me for questioning everything, like I'm a little kid that no one ever told that the world is round and solid, but it's gotten me this far. It's brought me to her. She makes panncakes and puts on music that speaks directly to me. She kisses me as I type this, looking over my shoulder and reminding me that I misspelled pancakes. I write 'she kisses me' before she does it. Sometimes you can write your own reality.
I walked out, past Ebenezer, to the road called Overlook. Named, I assume, for its onetime view of the lake. Or maybe for the hotel in The Shining. Or maybe they called it that because I used to live on that street, half a world away, a lifetime ago. There is a Jehovah's Witness building with a path behind it that leads out to the fence surrounding the lake. As I approach the fence, I notice that directly in front of me, there is an opening cut into the chain link. It looks like it was done with particular skill or care. It stands there waiting for me like all of this was scripted.
Emily tells me stories about her life. She talks about standing by her convictions over stories at the paper. She talks about her emotions while interviewing a woman who was turning 100. She is in support of drug rehab facilities that are facing opposition, she cried about a recently exonerated death row inmate. She displays empathy towards her subjects and stories that gives me hope. I like hearing about someone else, I'm actually enjoying listening.
Emily is doing things right. She has everything she needs plus a little sugar for her coffee (sugar she offers up freely), and she shares without greed or expectation, she loves what she does and does not shy away from change. She fills her life with fun and responsibility in equal doses. Her house is secure and safe for her, yet she opens it to wayward travelers. She wears new earrings facing the wrong way, drawing attention in towards her face, and boots that clack on the hardwood floor, announcing her approach. She is beautiful.
It takes me a full minute to go through the fence. The unknown is still scary, and beyond this fence is the real wilderness, whatever that means. I have to go in there and look at it. For me, if I'm ever going to find out what is going on, if I'm ever going to see behind the curtain, know the mysteries of this life, I have to be unpredictable. Erratic even. There are forces in this world that keep us within our circle of comfort. They can't stay one step ahead if you don't stay on the road. Some think that we can make small changes from there, from that road. They are right.
Emily is changing the world. She puts beauty and poetry into gutters and newsprint. She sees the American attitude swinging back towards 'America First' and sees that what we are actually saying is 'fuck you, get your own'. She does not agree. From the people of her community feeling apprehensive towards the idea of a rehab facility being opened in their neighborhood, to the national stage and America's recent hold on refugee immigration, we are backing away from helping others, from caring. We do this to protect what is ours.
Beyond the fence I have nothing. It is dark and I can't see. I know that I can't stay here for long before heading back. I am playing with the idea of seeing if someone, even in modern day America, can really have nothing, give everything away, and be okay. I'm not there yet, but eventually I will stay in the wilderness, learn to live without limits, search for answers behind any fence that I can make it through. Some people have to guard what they still have, protect the ideas that made our system semi-functional. For me, it's already failed and there's nothing I can do to help. I'll go have a look around at what's going on outside the system, behind the fences that keep us out of the unknown. When it's time to rebuild, I'll be back.
Emily suggests that I go with her and see her hometown. We'll do that, then she will come back here and continue to work towards the beautiful world that is possible when there are people like her in it. I will head south and try to rid myself of hypocrisy and doubt and fear. I will do it with the idea of her in my pocket, and all will be that much easier for it.
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