Living Rural

Both my wife and I hail from rural places on opposite sides of the world. In Fort Yates, mornings are punctuated by the Meadowlark, Robin and Pheasant with very little other noise. I think much of the stress of modern life is due to the endless grinding of machine age sounds on a mind and body only recently accustomed to them in the past hundred years or so. For me, a youth spent in the country led to an adult life, that with the exception of the last year, I've only spent two years outside the bustle of the urban and suburban realities.

Back in our natural state, my wife and I bristle at weekly or bi-weekly drives to Bismarck. The noise, the movement and the crush of human concentration wear on us quickly as we hurry to get in and get out. I've been trying to convince Gina that for all but our most serious trips to stock up, we should drive to the more sedate and pastoral town of Mobridge and save the psychic pain and shock of enduring sudden urban immersion.

I look forward to the day when streets are filled with quiet running electric vehicles or cities where roads are converted to park like spaces integrated with new, hyper-efficient public transit. I think this would do much to alleviate many of the ills of the harried present.