I’m always fascinated by the proprietary attitudes of the “here now” crowd over the “newly here” crowd. The “here nows” have zero awareness of, nor make any acknowledgement regarding, the fact that – at one point in time – they themselves were the dreaded “newly here” crowd about which the previous “here now” crowd bitched and moaned. It seems that once someone achieves the “here now” status, they should be the “last here” and all “on their way to be heres” should just head on down the road.
This was particularly comical when we lived in Western Washington State. We lived in this picturesque area located about 30 miles or so east of Seattle known as the Snoqualmie Valley. Once a thriving agricultural area, suburban sprawl was steadily marching onward, no matter which direction you turned. In the earlier days of expansion, the McMansion was hugely popular – an oversized house on a postage stamp lot with just enough lawn to get in trouble with the homeowner’s association when it wasn’t properly mowed or weeded. Eventually, with a nod toward affordable housing, these monstrosities gave way to street after cul de sac filled with more modestly sized cookie cutter family houses with different exterior color schemes.
The general progression of each subdivision would go something along these lines: Farmer sells the farm – a sizeable chunk of land – to a real estate developer; developer subdivides the land into more manageable chunks and gets plat approval from the city for the future plans; developer begins plan implementation, one section/street at a time; early adopters rush into the newly-formed subdivision and snatch up the first row of homes, all facing the nicely paved street with water and sewer connections, underground electricity, and broadband Internet securely snuggled beneath the freshly rolled asphalt – all while backed up to a “greenbelt” (the farmer’s original acreage, minus their swath of homes)…a feature for which they most likely paid a premium. Life is good for the “newly heres.”
A few years go by, the previously referenced “newly heres” have now settled into the proprietary attitude of the “here nows,” and then disaster strikes. The real estate developer is ready to begin “phase next” of the “Heavenly Bliss” subdivision, and it will run parallel to the first street with all the new houses backing up to the (now former) green belt of the early adopting “here nows.” There are letters to the editor, soccer mom mobilization meetings, phone calls to city officials, and – of course – social media firestorms. Central to all of this uproar will be the need to protect our “open spaces” – something that every tree-hugger who lives within 25 miles of either side of I5 thinks is in short supply in America. It will never cross the minds of most of the “here nows” that – prior to their arrival – there was significantly more “open space” that also needed “protecting.” For the remainder who understand this fact, it is irrelevant, because while they were entitled to take up the precious open space available at the time of their arrival, they are “here now” and no one else is entitled to take up additional open space over which they should have sole decision-making authority, despite the fact that they don’t actually own the open space in question. This pattern repeats itself with each newly installed phase of the subdivision.
One of my favorite examples of this was the beloved “coyote field.” A developer had built homes on all sides of the last remaining parcel – roughly 20 acres of open space located in the heart of town. The market fell on hard times for a while, so the parcel remained undeveloped and unfenced. Suffice it to say, it became the playground of choice for the families firmly ensconced in the surrounding phases. It was affectionately known as the “coyote field” because, well you guessed it, coyotes were frequently seen on the property at night. Then, one day the “here now” subdivision dwellers awoke to discover big yellow excavators in action behind chain-link panels on their beloved coyote field, and the fight was on. When the social media phase was in full force, I distinctly remember raising the issue of private property rights, i.e. the coyote field was privately owned by the real estate developer who had purchased it when it was for sale. Perhaps – if the “here nows” had wanted their own private playground, they should have purchased it themselves. Then, they could have preserved the “open space” in perpetuity. I’ll spare you the nasty details of the response I received, but suffice it to say, the point was lost in the cacophony of self-righteously entitled outrage of the “here nows.” Despite everything, all of the uproar went unheeded, and there are probably 160 newly minted “here nows” on that 20 acres by now.
Rural Idaho is not immune to this phenomenon.
The other day, one of our more well-known residents who enjoys a large following on Facebook was bemoaning the arrival of so many Californians to our area – a fairly frequent complaint all across the Gem State. While it is true that we are experiencing a steady arrival of Californians, the ones arriving in our area easily fall into the “refugee” and not “reformer” category. An extremely rural location, we are receiving a lot of like-lifestyled individuals from the more rural areas of the Golden State, and – almost more importantly in this hyperbolic political climate – most of them are like-minded in the world view and political affiliations to the ultra-conservative “here nows” of rural Idaho.
Despite this, there is a somewhat humorous (and significantly obnoxious) hierarchical cast system here that determines not only the right to speak out on any given issue here, but the weight that will be given to the opinion being expressed. If “your people” were one of the four or five original families who homesteaded the valley (i.e. there is a local cemetery which bears your family name), then you may speak freely on any topic, and your opinion carries the weight of the engraved stones carried down from the mountain by Moses. These are not only the “here nows,” but they are the ultimate “have been, and are still here nows” for generations that have been and are still to come. On the other hand, if you are not one of the patriarchal clans, then your position in the cast system is determined by the length of time you/your family has bled, sweat, and shed tears over this land.
As a “newly here” of only 5 years, I have lost count of the times I have been told, “…but you’re not from here” as the final, conversation-closing, “I refuse to discuss it further” response in a conversation. This is the more polite manifestation of the “here now” sentiment. When a discussion gets rolling on social media, it doesn’t take long for some “here now” to roll out the, “Well, if you don’t like it, you can just go back to California.” (whether or not the initial offender is actually from California). This is almost immediately followed by the original speaker laying out his/her “here now” bona fides with something along the lines of, “I’ve been here since 19XX” or “My family has been here for 5 generations,” or the like. In other words, you shouldn’t dismiss my opinion quite so quickly, because – while I may not be homesteading royalty – “me and mine” have been here long enough to be heard on this matter.
In the beginning, it kind of hurt my feelings. But, in very short order, I learned to ignore it. As the local citizen opined on his FB page, with the number of “newly heres” arriving almost daily, they will soon completely outnumber the “here nows,” if not already the case.
For all of the “here nows” – whether in the Snoqualmie Valley of Western Washington or here in the council Valley of rural Idaho, it still makes me smile to recognize the total disregard for the fact that they, too, were once “newly heres.” This is particularly humorous in both of these instances, because the very name of the Snoqualmie Valley is derived from the Native American Snoqualmie tribe that inhabited the land before the Dougherty family arrived to homestead the land. Likewise, Council is named based on the fact that the valley was once a gathering place for several tribes of local Native Americans who “counciled” here long before the Moser family rolled up in their covered wagon to call this place home. And, I have every confidence that the “here nows” of that time were once “newly heres” long before that.
…and so it goes.