The Human-Beaver Conflict

I rode my bike to work on my first day. I arrived ten minutes early, so I decided to go to Goodales bakery for a cup of coffee. The same old guys were around the same round table they are always at. Surrounded by donuts and Nascar posters and pictures of old Ford pickups, they drank their coffee and discussed gas prices. Cupping my styrofoam cup of coffee in my hands, I looked out the window to the dark street and pretended not to listen. But how could I not? Their conversation turned to curse words. "You raise your kids a certain way, you know? And then you turn on your radio and hear all those bad words. And your kids can hear 'em too!" This mans kids had to be at least in their thirty's by now. These guys were here, in their exact positions, over a month ago when I came to Grayling for an interview. Now that I am here for work, nothing has changed for them. But everything has for me.

Three months ago I lived in a cabin in a forest in the middle of a city. Now I live in a house in a 'city' in the middle of a forest. I used to be surrounded by young people in birkenstocks and patagonia, now I sit outside a circle of old men in carhartt and flannel. I used to sleep in until 10 and party till 12. Now I wake up at 6:30 and turn my light out by nine. I was a kid. Now I am an adult who sits by the fake fire with Phyllis talking about how "kids just need to learn-- they cant go on chewing tobacco and skipping class forever."