The main character in my story, Micah, is determined to stay in his hometown and make a life for himself. As I mentioned, he lives in a mill town - a one-horse economy reliant on a paper plant. And, the plant is shrinking. The paper industry in post-industrial America is dying, right? We use the internet for everything, and plants over-seas pump out the product cheaper and more efficiently (i think). The fragile economy in the whole area is pretty dependent on this plant - truckers who ship their orders, lumber outfits that supply their wood, chip mills that process the wood, restaurants that serve their employees. And the lumber industry isn't doing so hot itself these days with the housing crash etc.
So, Micah (who is my age), is still absolutely determined to make a life in his town. Though he's very aware that it's on the path to ghost town. He's a fourth generation mill worker, and has taken all the right steps to succeed in the world he knows. A good work ethic, a good family name, a plot of land to build a home.
Now that he's lost his job at the mill he's getting a second college degree - this time in gasoline mechanics, which in addition to his first degree in diesel hydrolics will make him a really skilled mechanic. He'll be able to fix your car, your truck, your tractor... but for who?
And he could get out. He was offered a job in Portland, but would rather suffer through his harsh local economy chasing after an ideal his forefathers set out for him than enter the world of men with soft hands and Abercrombie outfits (his words, almost). He's stubbornly warding off the future, and fighting for the past.
So anyway, his struggle made me think about my counter struggle finding a career path. He is fighting for exactly what I promptly fled at age 18, without much thought. Staying in my hometown would have felt a stifling decision, and actually probably would have surprised my parents. The world is my oyster, right? Why stay at home?
Like many people in 'my shoes' I've spent the years since high school wandering, learning, trying out lots of things in the hope that I'm on a convoluted path to find a lifestyle and occupation that meets my ideals and ambitions. And figuring out exactly what my ideals and ambitions are along the way. This is an angst I would be embarrassed to reveal in Madawaska.
When I was living in Marrakesh someone (Jordan?) brought back the best/worst book I've ever read from a trip home (I think he picked it up in the airport) - The Paradox of Choice. Have you read it? Probably don't, you might be embarrassed how hard it hits home. It's pretty much a self-help book discussing the difficulty finding satisfaction in a world where we have so many choices. How will you ever know you've made the right decision when people around you are making different, maybe better decisions. Can you really know what you want until you've tried them all? The book goes on for twelve chapters, and ends with a disappointing lack of conclusion. No answers, just pinpointing a somewhat embarrassing struggle that I had been feeling.
The book circulated through the young American ex-pat circle in Morocco like wildfire. Not surprising considering where we were and what we were doing. [Granted, most of my American friends were there on a Fulbright or some other prestigious research grant - I was there because I had saved up enough to buy a plane ticket, and pretty randomly found means to stay for a lot longer than I planned - see old entries on this blog. So, the self-helpiness of this book may have struck me a little harder].
Micah knows what will keep his soul-satisfied, but the invisible forces of a changing America are taking it away from him. I'm in a writing program that I love, and still have no idea what job I'm on the path to. We're both struggling, but if we were to have a conversation about our fears for the future I'm pretty sure we'd both be left mouth a little open staring blankly. Unrelatable.
