Letters 11-23-2015

Cheering From Petoskey While red-eyed rats boil fanatically up from the ancient sewers of Paris to feast on pools of French blood, at the G20 meeting the farcical pied piper of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue thrusts a bony finger at the president of the Russian Federation and yells: “liberté, égalité, fraternité, Clinton, Kerry--Obamaism!”

The Other Mothers And Fathers Regarding the very nice recent article on “The First Lady of Yoga,” I have taken many classes with Sandy Carden, and I consider her to be a great teacher. However, I feel the article is remiss to not even give acknowledgement to other very important yoga influences in northern Michigan...

Drop The Blue Angels The last time I went to the National Cherry Festival, I picked the wrong day. The Blue Angels were forcing everyone to duck and cover from the earsplitting cacophony overhead...

Real Advice For The Sick In the Nov. 16 article “Flu Fighters,” author Kristi Kates fails to mention the most basic tool in our arsenal during Influenza season... the flu vaccine! I understand you might be afraid of being the victim of Jenny McCarthyism, but the science is there...

Keeping Traverse City in the Dark Our environment is our greatest asset. It sustains our lives; it drives our economy. We ignore it at our peril. Northern Michigan Environmental Action Council (NMEAC) has submitted letters of concern to both the city commission and planning commission regarding the proposed 9-story buildings on Pine Street. We have requested an independent environmental assessment with clear answers before a land use permit is granted...

All About Them Another cartoon by Jen Sorensen that brings out the truth! Most of her cartoons are too slanted in a Socialist manner, but when she gets it correct, she hits the nail on the target! “Arizona is the first state to put a 12-month lifetime limit on welfare benefits.” That quote is in the opening panel... 

Unfair To County Employees It appears that the commissioners of Grand Traverse County will seek to remedy a shortfall in the 2016 budget by instituting cuts in expenditures, the most notable the reduction of contributions to various insurance benefits in place for county employees. As one example, the county’s contributions to health insurance premiums will decrease from ten to six percent in 2016. What this means, of course, is that if a county employee wishes to maintain coverage at the current level next year, the employee will have to come up with the difference...

Up, Not Out I would like to congratulate the Traverse City Planning Commission on their decision to approve the River West development. Traverse City will either grow up or grow out. For countless reasons, up is better than out. Or do we enjoy such things as traffic congestion and replacing wooded hillsides with hideous spectacles like the one behind Tom’s West Bay. At least that one is on the edge of town as opposed to in the formerly beautiful rolling meadows of Acme Township...

Lessons In Winning War I am saddened to hear the response of so many of legislators tasked with keeping our country safe. I listen and wonder if they know what “winning” this kind of conflict requires or even means? Did we win in Korea? Did we win in Vietnam? Are we winning in Afghanistan? How is Israel winning against the Palestinians? Will they “take out” Hezbollah...

Home · Articles · News · Books · At least in the city someone would...
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At least in the city someone would hear me scream By Wade Rouse

Elizabeth Kane Buzzelli - June 22nd, 2009
A Gay Green Acres
Set in Saugatuck
At Least in the City Someone Would Hear
Me Scream
By Wade Rouse
Harmony Books

By Elizabeth Kane Buzzelli 6/22/09

You take comedian Stephen Colbert, throw in a generous dash of the guys from Queer Eye, and what you get is Wade Rouse’s hilarious new memoir, At Least in the City Someone Would Hear Me Scream - Misadventures in Search of the Simple Life.
Wade, and his partner, Gary, leave St. Louis to come live their dream life in the Michigan woods outside of Saugatuck, where they innocently run smack up against themselves, the culture of the north woods, and the problem of getting what they asked for and maybe not wanting it at all.
When real life gets wrapped up with a philosophy that comes straight down from Ricky and Lucy Ricardo, gets mired in the muck of Walden, then straightened out by a guy on an overpass holding a sign that asks: “WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU COULD NOT FAIL?” you’ve got the trajectory of this howl of a book, with just a little bittersweetness at its heart.
Nothing can be funnier than Wade’s introduction to his new home, when he begins the story of his transition from city to country with a raccoon on his head. Not a coonskin cap; not a toy raccoon, but a “very much alive, very much pissed off, and very much sporting a bad stink, and a lot of painfully sharp claws” raccoon.
Who would have thought of an animal in your garbage can? Evidently not this ‘modern-day Henry David Thoreau,’ who also never considered being alone to write all day with nothing to say; never imagined being so far from a Starbucks, or a Whole Foods; never thought he wouldn’t be able to run into an Anthropologie when he was in desperate need of a retro Froot Loop T-shirt, or that he wouldn’t have a place to go for a good microdermabrasion or to have his lashes tinted. He wasn’t going to the dark side of the moon, after all, was he? Only to the back woods of western Michigan.

Wade Rouse is the quintessential fish out of water; like none you’ve ever met before. This is a guy who, by his own admission, buys Mary Kay and swipes lotion “and bronzer onto his bare legs in the supermarket while he thumps kiwi.” Now put him in the back woods where a neighbor watches him through night-vision goggles; another has a yard crammed with cat imagery, even to a cat waving an American flag, with the slogan “PROUD AMERICAT” on it; and the neighbor next door, in the rusting single-wide, comes on to him as his first gesture of neighborliness.
So, here he is in Michigan, back in the woods, trying to write and finding he has nothing to write about. And from this angst comes a memoir based on ten lessons Wade and Gary hope to learn in order to make it in their new home. Loosely based on Thoreau’s Walden, the lessons are meant to take them from their old, corporate life of friends and good restaurants, expensive clothes and parties, to a life based on the mind; a life pared to simplicity; a life where these two men can appreciate each other and what they have.
“Lesson Five: PARTICIPATE IN COUNTRY CUSTOMS” takes Wade out ice fishing. In his “cashmere turtleneck, a $300 scarf that I bought in Chicago, and a brand-new peacoat that makes me look like I should be having hot tea with Gwyneth and Apple in a London cafe,” and in his “slick-footed Kenneth Cole Reaction boots with zero traction,” Wade’s off to meet new friends out on the ice, in their fishing shanty.
Of course, he slips and slides over the ice to be picked up, unceremoniously, by one of the fishermen waiting for him. Before long, Wade, sitting on his little stool with a line down into the water, gets bored and cold and begins to whine. The whining brings shunning. But Wade perseveres—as he does through all 10 of his lessons.
Another foray into local custom is a trip to a country-western bar for karaoke. Here, two of the native women (“Whachoo cute young cowpokes doin’ here without any ladies?” one slurs and the other adds “Well, you fellas could use some cheerin’ up. And we’re just the gals to do it”) give Wade and Gary a warm, but useless, welcome. The women discover the two men they’ve set their sites on are gay, but the evening is saved by Wade singing a Kelly Clarkson song, warming up the mostly drunken crowd.

Planning to sustain themselves like Thoreau, who cultivated seven miles of beans, Wade and Gary plant an extensive, and expensive, vegetable garden. The chapter “Gary and Wade Grow a Single Bean” tells the story of that abortive effort.
In between the disappointments, the fun, and the snide cynicism (which Wade vows to give up—in one of his rules—but never quite overcomes), there is also buried anger and hurt. Though Wade hides nothing and fights like a tiger to be exactly who he is, there are stark hints of his difficult passage as a fat, gay boy growing up in the Ozarks to the urban gay man who has now come back to his roots. Maybe it is that past he’s set out to conquer; maybe it is himself—the man who no longer needs to hide in a city. What he and Gary have done is come to the woods, much as Thoreau did, to live as one with nature, to learn about themselves and each other, and be at peace with the world around them.
Introspective, even with a raccoon sitting on his head, Wade can see the part he’s played in his own destiny. He writes: “The coon’s tail swings over my shoulder, and, for a second, I resemble Madonna on her Blonde Ambition tour. And then I realize this is my payback. Just a couple of weeks ago in the city I was making fun of a woman with hideous hair extensions in Walgreen’s. I mean, I had to: The color and texture didn’t even match her real hair...”
Look out Michigan. Wade Rouse is here, and it looks as if he means to stay.

Buzzelli’s Dead Floating Lovers, second in the Emily Kincaid Northern Michigan mystery series from Midnight Ink, is in books stores now.

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