Stubble and stone make a hard row to how. What little will grow, the drought will kill.
The summer folks call it Paradise Mountain but we call it Poverty Hill.
-- Fred Hellerman/Fran Minkoff
The title of the ditty is, no surprise, 'Poverty Hill'. But, of course, they didn't write it. Hellerman was a Weaver and Minkoff collaborated (he he) with him often.
Now, we pilgrimage to Block Island most every year for some years. This year we went twice: Memorial Day week and the past one. Interestingly, each trip has shed some light on what it means to live in God's Own Small Town America. Accommodation on the Island runs from Saturday to Saturday, and the island's weekly newspaper does too. So, on the ferry Memorial Day Saturday we read up the new issue with the screaming (2 inch type) headline that the medical center doctor had quit. Yes, an island with ~900 residents (but, it is widely said, 10,000 visitors per day during High Season) has just one medical facility and one doctor. Over the next few weeks, reading the on-line version of the paper, one found that the doctor: first, extended his last date; second, stated he would remain "indefinitely'; and third, rescinded said resignation. Letters to the editor of said paper, and subsequent chats with islanders, led to the belief that the doctor had merely extorted more remuneration. In this time frame it was reported that the town had increased its payment to the medical center by $40,000 over the previous year. Post hoc ergo propter hoc? Or dots that must be connected? So, that was the state of the island as we journeyed last week.
Last week, weather was mostly pleasant, and mostly fisherman from the mainland as visitors. Restaurants were closing earlier this year than previously, but luckily some remained open through our week. Phew! It's just one week after Columbus Day, for crying out loud!!
We got our trip back on Saturday, and, of course, read the island paper on the boat back to the mainland. Didn't get 2 inch headline, but this time it was the recently hired town manager who resigned. Lasted about a year and a half. He had been chosen in late 2017, but didn't start up in earnest until into 2018, since he couldn't find a place to live. Not that there aren't places to live on the island, but if you read the real estate section of the paper, much of what is up for sale is $1.5+ million summer cottages. In fact, during our week, the latest affordable housing lottery was done. Five winners were announced; from merely 12 pre-approved applications (mostly, applicants have to prove permanent residence on the island and accept re-sale covenants). The houses are 2 and 3 bedroom prefabs. The 2 bedroom goes for $250,000. Talking with the staff at Bethany's Airport Diner (best breakfast on earth), it turns out that the housing issue has been recognized for some time. One had won her home some 27 years ago. And, I'll bet, you thought only big cities like San Francisco had a 'housing problem', didn't you?
Will the town manager be persuaded to stay? Find him some baksheesh? Only time will tell.
Much of prime time TeeVee sit-coms has over the decades has been set in GOSTA, as if nothing could be finer. Very against type, "Cheers", set in not small-town Boston, has "Where Everybody Knows Your Name" as its theme song.
But consider the import of that idea. Block Island is an exemplar of GOSTA. Those ~900, with the obligatory 2.2 kids leads to about 400 adult voters, and a known handful of families owning most of the commercial establishments and membership in town government. IOW, those growing up in small town America are enured to living in autocracy. Now you know why some folks accept The Manchurian President as legitimate. Just their GOSTA writ large. While pleasant to visit, and not usually involved in the machinations of the medical center or town government, what would it be like to live under the boot heels of a handful of doges? No thanks. Give me the anarchy and polyglot of cities.
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