It wasn’t that long ago that getting out of my hometown was my primary measure of success. After all, hadn’t the world been telling me as much for as long as I could remember? A shrinking job market, a contracting population, and the resulting decline in the tax base left my rustbelt community struggling throughout the last quarter of the 20th century and well into the 21st. When I looked around my community, I just didn’t see much left for someone like me.
Swing in this tree
Mm-oh, I am bounce around so well
Branch to branch, limb to limb, you see
All in a day’s dream I’m stuck
Like the other monkeys here
So I buckled down, got the grades, joined the clubs, played the sports and earned the scholarships. I did everything “right”. Got into a good school, struggled to find my place in a college community where so many had so much, but eventually found my footing and graduated.
I am a humble monkey sitting up in here again
But then came the day
I climbed out of these safe limbs, ventured away
Walking tall, head high up and singing
I went to the city
Car horns, corners and the gritty
Now I am the proudest monkey you’ve ever seen
Diploma in hand, I never looked back. I moved every one to three years consistently in my 20s and 30s, always following the jobs. First to the state capital, then to a new state, and then to Europe before settling back in the midwest in the classic suburb. Big house, quiet street, around the corner from the country club. Yes, really.
Monkey see, monkey do, yeah
The problem is, I never really stopped to think if all of this was what I actually wanted. I’d just been heeding the guidance of the well-meaning adults in my life. They’d promised that if I followed all the rules I could have everything I ever wanted. And I’d fallen for it. For over two decades!
Then comes the day
Staring at myself I turn to question me
I wonder: do I want the simple, simple life that I once lived in well?
And then something quite unexpected happened. I inherited the family farm. Staring midlife in the face, laid off from a tech job for the second time, with two children and a husband in tow, I was finally being forced to take stock of my life and figure out what I wanted. Like really wanted.
Oh, things were quiet then
In a way they were the better days
But now I am the proudest monkey you’ve ever seen
And I began to realize a few things. First that I was tired of chasing a dream that was never going to materialize. We had made strides, sure, but eventually the tech industry had regressed to become a cesspool of exploitation and human suffering. We could no longer pretend we were doing this work for noble reasons. The sole purpose of most tech work had become to extract value out of communities and to strip workers of their dignity and rights.
Monkey see, monkey do, yeah
Sometimes I think that inheriting the farm came at exactly the wrong time in my life. Who is prepared to uproot their family, strike out on a new career, and shore up a 200 year old farmhouse when they have teenagers, aging parents, and no income? But then sometimes I think maybe this happened at exactly the right time. Because it forced me to take a long, hard look at my life, at where I was headed, and whether that path was serving me.
I can’t say with certainty that I made the right choice. Some days are still hard. But it feels right. Like this is what I’m meant to do. Like all of that time I spent chasing that unreachable dream has prepared me for a dream I never knew I wanted. One where I can live and work with purpose, and contribute to my community in my own unique way.
I am the proudest monkey.
A little inspiration: https://youtu.be/HQdphbEMmbY?si=rdQ-xoyVUTmXdNiT
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