Saturday, December 1, 2012

Vision

Vision: It's like a landscape painting in process... oil... easel in the outdoors. As much as one attempts to maintain purity, stay on task, hold the picture together, consistent forces interact with its reality.  Wind, rain, birds overhead stir and contaminate the situation.  There's constant dabbling onto the pallet, running out of paint, running out of paint, passers-by criticizing the imperfection without understanding, without knowing.

Thank you to those few who have supported the vision, who have understood the struggle and sacrifice, who have been close enough to know.  Thank you to the many who have cheered us on, noticed the difference, and let us know they feel what we're doing is important.  Thank you to those few unwilling participants, patient, against their will. Farewell to those who have judged rather than helped.  We apologize to those we've stepped on, barged through, and didn't have the time or resources to sort out properly.

I have faith the pendulum has reached that distant stroke point, and is turning back again. We have all forgotten what we've lost, but looking out my front window in Munising, I'm keenly aware. My memory spans back forty years at this same view. Fries and gravy were served next door at the Munising Cafe' and around the block at the Three Sisters' Restaurant.  They weren't perfect, but they were home.  We shopped for Christmas here. Jewelry came from Lester's, radios and televisions from Hiawatha TV and Appliance. We'd order stuff through the local Montgomery Ward and Sears stores, and buy our jeans from Cowell's, People's and Denman's.  La Femme Dress Shop was always wonderful. I can't mention all of the stores that existed then. Tons.

We've made our choices, and the landscape reflects that.  We've been wooed from our community. As we looked to distant places, drawn by shiny things, our livelihoods followed our desires. We've been tricked out of our homes. What did we get?

We shop owners pretend to be relevant, turning on Christmas lights, celebrating the downtown.  Something in me says to continue this. Something in me says that the pendulum is looking back this way, drawn by the gravity of the situation.  Those communities still pretending, still playing the relevant role will be ready for the magic to come back.  Those communities who have completely forgotten may miss the sign.

Even if my canvas has been torn, I know how to darn. I'm a soldier, you see.  A cliff is not an end; it's an opportunity to climb up or repel down and proceed forward.

I believe in supporting our local economy. I believe in supporting our neighbors to succeed. I believe in towns and communities. And I believe in real food rather than engineered false satisfaction. I'm not perfect, but I won't give up till my canvas has come to fruition.  I ask you to join me in some small way.  And I ask you to understand the vision. It's more important than anything.  Please have faith in it.

2 comments:

  1. I didn't spend the most time at RRC, but when I was there I felt like I was home. I miss working for you guys, the creative environment that enriched my life everyday, the joy of working with fresh local ingredients, and the great amount of pride I took in what I did. Love you guys <3

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