Past Imperfect
~ by Mark Blackwell
For those who are new to Brown County or just haven’ t been paying attention, Abe Martin is the 113 year old character brought to being and set in the“ Hills o’ Brown” by Frank McKinney“ Kin” Hubbard. In February, 1905 Abe declared he was movin’ to Brown County, and he did. And ever since I settled on the ridge he has come by from time to time just to pass the time.
I was talkin’ to old Abe Martin just the other day. He caught me on the back porch with my feet up contemplating the great void.
I didn’ t have to open my eyes to know it was Abe coming up the steps because he carries around the aroma of Brown County. It smells like a new mown hayfield, with a whiff of ripe apples and autumn leaves. Not lookin’ up, I said,“ Howdy Abe.” Abe said,“ Howdy young’ un.” He went on,“ What’ s got yer brain in a tangle?”
“ Well, Abe,” I said,“ I am trying to get a hold on my future. I am trying to understand what might be comin’ around the bend so I can prepare for it.”
“ Yup, I can see yer predicament right off,” said Abe.“ Yer tryin’ ta git a holt o’ sumthin’ that jist ain’ t.” He went on,“ The future ain’ t come into bein’ yet and jist as soon as it does, well, it ain’ t the future no more. It shifts itself into the past afore you kin ketch it.”
“ Well, I suppose I’ ll just have to shift my contemplatin’ over to the domain of the past.” And so I did. It turns out that I do spend considerable time in the past. I like history and history is just stories about the past. Unlike the future, which is a slippery thing, the past is not all that hard to get a hold of. The past has tangibles and touchstones like 8-track tape players, ringer washing machines, wood stoves, and photographs.
When I crank my old telephone, it doesn’ t ring-up the future but I can lift the ear-piece and almost hear somebody say,“ Hello, Operator?”
I find it deeply satisfying to crank up my old gramophone and put on a 78 rpm record to hear Jimmy Rodgers sing to me from the 1920s. I also like to thread 16mm film into the old Bell and Howell projector and watch“ The little Tramp” bedevil a mean, rich guy and run off with his pretty daughter in the end. When I am using one of my grandfather’ s old tools I can feel his hands guiding mine.
But, before I go waxing too blissfully about the past— it does have its deficiencies.
To me there two different kinds of pasts. There is the“ past” with a small“ p” which consists of memories and then there’ s history. That’ s“ Past” with a capital“ P.” The past I tend to visit most is a summer afternoon on the screened-in-porch shelling peas with my mom and grandma, or wading in a clear running creek with a sandy bottom, and riding my trusty bicycle.
Then there was a hurtful love affair or two, a hitch in Vietnam, and losing loved ones.
It seems like where folks’“ past” slams up against history, things don’ t work out so well. There is the“ past” where I shook hands with Bobby Kennedy and the“ Past” where Bobby was murdered two months later. Sometimes whole generations get caught up in history and it can cling to you so close that it feels like reality.
So, the past ain’ t perfect, but unlike the future, you know what’ s there.
I reckon the past is inescapable, unless you’ re one of them characters in a soap opera who suffers from chronic amnesia. The good thing is that you can edit your past. You can go back to the good times and the good feelings and let the bad stuff fade. You don’ t get to pick and choose the future— it will be what it will be. I think places like Brown County kinda work at bringing to mind the slower, simpler, creative times that live in memory.
Brown County is a place where you can live in a cabin back in the hills, grow your own garden, heat with a woodstove, and burn kerosene lamps for light. You can live in the past and bend it towards the future. I see folks all time, working in the old ways and making the old ways work for them. That is why a lot of folks come to Brown County. •
64 Our Brown County Sept./ Oct. 2017