Growing up as a child of the 50’s, things were rather precise…drawing between the lines was an unquestioned expectation both literally and figuratively things were rather black and white…from television shows, to separate schools and neighborhoods and the rule that gender played in a very Christian American society, be THE MAN or his little lady! You either were with the nation or against the nation in the 50’s and lines had been drawn by some unforeseen force permitting the same kinds of people to marry the same kind, to worship with with the same kind, and to be a real American, as in “Are you now or have you ever been a Communist”.No questions needed to be asked as long as you stayed in-between the lines, after all President Eisenhower created the Interstate Routes, all drawn with lines going north and south or east and west. Follow the line, be good, and the American life will certainly be yours as a blessing.
Times have changed and the boundaries placed upon each and everyone have either moved like the ebb and flow of the tide, or have charged forward with consequence, good or bad, like the waves of a tsunami, the quake of the earth or an avalanche falling freely with force. No longer are the lines as straight and forceful as the 50’s insisted they be…but at the same time the lines newly formed still ask questions and urge the adventurer to wonder which line, curved or starlight, far or near is the one to try.
Provincetown, does not believe to follow the line is a necessary necessity, nor a normal approach to the day ahead. Joe and I stand on the shore, in front of us are the ruins of a dock, yearning to meet the waves, all facing the ships at sea, each with a different destination ahead. To color in-between the lines here, in this place is a sad sin, sorrowful for the soul who seems to believe there is only one way to live a life. Lines are the design of life, limitless and if you need more then by all means create another line up, down, inside out, or outward and never ending. Day Six!
