Thank you for this reflection of how life changes, even in a small town. I was driving around Cumming the other day looking at all of the new homes being built, noticing the life coming back in the older buildings and homes, and seeing many new buildings going up that are going to be home to the new businesses springing up on the outskirts of town. And I thought - “Oh crap, they are going to have to put a stoplight on Cumming Road”. Is that progress or life passing me by……….or both?!
It’s hard to say what constitutes progress. We want change but also resist it. The stoplight was necessary for safety reasons but represents so much more.
Lots to unpack. Interesting tension between past, present and future. A rural town growing, unlike most. But into what? More of the same suburban blandness, our lives "known" by who our teams are (both sports and political)? We are bigger than that, but sometimes that's all we see or let be seen in a timid kind of shorthand. Is the stoplight a sterile, mechanical sign of "progress" when it is clearly a hindrance in your journey? What some see as blessings other see as curses. Nicely done! Thank you.
Two thoughts collided as I read this poem -- a reminder that our unborn descendants, two or three generations away, won't really know us or our thoughts. They may carry our name, our genes, the rare possession we so carefully bought and kept. Yet, WE won't be in their memory. The second, a sentence from Kara Swisher's new book, Burn Book - "everything is always on the way to something else".
The stop light is nostalgia blending with hesitant anticipation. The past on its way to the future.
Exactly. Progress will happen, whether we consider it advancement or simply change. We progress. That is how our species operates. While I don't know that my town is getting better in the way I might want it to be, I certainly don't want to go back to the way it was when I was younger -- no stoplight but many other issues. Thank you for commenting!
Congrats on publishing it. Iowa changed so much in the last couple decades, and it was so quiet, at least from where I'm sitting. Your reflection has a better view. Well done.
Thank you, Mathew. Change happens both loudly and quietly. The transformation of my hometown is sometimes very visible and obvious (houses, restaurants, stop lights) and sometimes much more subtle. I'm sure that is the case with society in general. I appreciate your comment -- and your poetry!
This reminds me of something I wrote, “I Prefer Nature in Decay” (or some such title). I compared it to neatly manicured lawns. The more aware we become of humankind’s destruction, the harder it is to see land gobbled up by development, and the more we appreciate land doing its own thing, keeping us (and animals) healthy. Thank you Suzanna. To say you have a way with words (and imagery) is an understatement!
I'd love to see that! I was bemoaning a development coming up here in Central Iowa, how perfectly good cornfields were being destroyed... and then reminded that the perfectly good cornfields destroyed natural prairie. We believe we know what is best, or at least we do what we want. Thank you as always, Heide!
Thank you for this reflection of how life changes, even in a small town. I was driving around Cumming the other day looking at all of the new homes being built, noticing the life coming back in the older buildings and homes, and seeing many new buildings going up that are going to be home to the new businesses springing up on the outskirts of town. And I thought - “Oh crap, they are going to have to put a stoplight on Cumming Road”. Is that progress or life passing me by……….or both?!
It’s hard to say what constitutes progress. We want change but also resist it. The stoplight was necessary for safety reasons but represents so much more.
It’s the same in Cumming.
Lots to unpack. Interesting tension between past, present and future. A rural town growing, unlike most. But into what? More of the same suburban blandness, our lives "known" by who our teams are (both sports and political)? We are bigger than that, but sometimes that's all we see or let be seen in a timid kind of shorthand. Is the stoplight a sterile, mechanical sign of "progress" when it is clearly a hindrance in your journey? What some see as blessings other see as curses. Nicely done! Thank you.
Thanks for recognizing all the dualities. I am glad that worked. I love your observation of the stoplight hindering our progress.
Two thoughts collided as I read this poem -- a reminder that our unborn descendants, two or three generations away, won't really know us or our thoughts. They may carry our name, our genes, the rare possession we so carefully bought and kept. Yet, WE won't be in their memory. The second, a sentence from Kara Swisher's new book, Burn Book - "everything is always on the way to something else".
The stop light is nostalgia blending with hesitant anticipation. The past on its way to the future.
Exactly. Progress will happen, whether we consider it advancement or simply change. We progress. That is how our species operates. While I don't know that my town is getting better in the way I might want it to be, I certainly don't want to go back to the way it was when I was younger -- no stoplight but many other issues. Thank you for commenting!
Congrats on publishing it. Iowa changed so much in the last couple decades, and it was so quiet, at least from where I'm sitting. Your reflection has a better view. Well done.
Thank you, Mathew. Change happens both loudly and quietly. The transformation of my hometown is sometimes very visible and obvious (houses, restaurants, stop lights) and sometimes much more subtle. I'm sure that is the case with society in general. I appreciate your comment -- and your poetry!
This reminds me of something I wrote, “I Prefer Nature in Decay” (or some such title). I compared it to neatly manicured lawns. The more aware we become of humankind’s destruction, the harder it is to see land gobbled up by development, and the more we appreciate land doing its own thing, keeping us (and animals) healthy. Thank you Suzanna. To say you have a way with words (and imagery) is an understatement!
I'd love to see that! I was bemoaning a development coming up here in Central Iowa, how perfectly good cornfields were being destroyed... and then reminded that the perfectly good cornfields destroyed natural prairie. We believe we know what is best, or at least we do what we want. Thank you as always, Heide!
Maybe even better than I remember from first reading. Thank you.
Thanks! It was my first poem on this site but I revised it. Poems never end.
Congratulations Suzanna! Yet another good commentary about suburban or small town living.
Thank you, Andrea. We know small town life!
OPPS...intended love not live, however both seem applicable.
The Stoplight brought me to hiw we can see the "changes" if we stay in one place; if we return after a period of awayness; if we are "aware".
Great provocative piece Suzanna. Always live your work.
Thanks, Barbara. We can’t always see what’s under our nose, but sometimes we can see eyes wide open — and be alarmed by what we observe. Xxoo
Congratulations! I, too, had work (images, not words) published there.