......finding a new home for lutefisk lovers.

(ok we don't love it. or even like it. but we're supposed to.)

13 March 2012

At Least in the City, Someone Would Hear Me Scream.......by Wade Rouse who is my own personal Jesus

When I saw the title of this book, stacked neatly on a table labeled  "New in Paperback!",  a zing of electricity shot through my body and an old-fashioned car horn went  Aaaaa-OOH-ga!  Aaaaa-OOH-ga!    It was one of those moments when all the vibrations of the universe align and I saw,  in one simple sentence,  that someone else was feelin' me.   Without even opening the book or reading the blurb,  I thought  to myself  "Maybe this guy could be my friend......"

My hands shook a little as I picked it up   -   I'm not kidding about this   -   and I think I whimpered a little.   And then I RAN around tables and chairs and old ladies who couldn't figure out that I was trying to get by them to find Mike because I couldn't handle the discovery all by myself.   I needed someone else to see this and jump up and down with me and and sing  "It's not me!  It's not me!"

I need to tell Wade Rouse that just the title alone gave me solace.......because, yes, there is comfort in knowing that a neighbor sitting just 10 feet away from my lot line would hear me scream if I were attacked   -   maybe by this mystery animal called a fisher cat that is not a cat.   There is comfort in knowing that the proper response to hearing gunshots on the playground is to call 911  -   and not casually ignore them while we wait for our children to emerge from their nature program in the woods.   And there is comfort in knowing that I am not the only person who feels this.

In this memoir,  Wade Rouse is chasing a dream fueled by Henry David Thoreau's Walden.   He wants to create what he calls "Wade's Walden,"  a rural utopia that will save him from the rat race and his frustrating city job and fulfill his yearning to become a full time writer.   He calls his decision to move to the country either the bravest decision of his life or the worst mistake since his botched Ogilvie perm.   Did I mention that Wade is gay?   Gay in the country is so much funnier than straight in the country.   It's like Lucy and Ethel with an extra layer of sociopolitical humor  (coincidentally,  Wade often solves problems by asking himself,  "What would Lucy do?").

Wade and his partner, Gary, leave culture, cable and consumerism behind and strike out for a town in rural Michigan,  a place with fewer people than their former spinning class.   Wade is a self-described Starbucks-swilling, pashmina-wearing, catch-a-Parker-Posey-independent-film kind of guy who finds himself shopping at feed stores and attending church potlucks (which trigger some unwelcome church camp memories).   He wears a cashmere turtleneck and a $300 scarf to go ice fishing.  And a pea coat that makes him look like he should be having tea with Gwyneth and Apple in a London cafe....... again, for the ice fishing.   And he uses lip balm and breath spray to fend off a blood thirsty raccoon.  

There have been times out here in the sticks when I have actually thought,  "I need a sassy gay friend."   Someone to make this sleepy town a little more interesting.   Someone who could fill the void with color, design, pattern, diversity, a little counter culture and a lot of catty humor.   And someone to help me with my outfits.   Someone who would smack me and say,  "Get out of those yoga pants, girl!"

Wade and Gary......I love you guys.   Will you be my friends?

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