history draft

Jackie McCormick
Professor Mutnick
Creative Non-Fiction
April 4, 2008

“He who knows he has enough is rich.”
~Tao Te Ching

“Life! Up ahead!” the billboard condescendingly read; though I am not sure the creators of the sign knew they were being contemptuous when creating it. It reminded me of when I was very young: on hot summer days, sitting in the clean cut grass just off the porch, building even bigger anthills out of the very small ant hills that they themselves (the ants) had already created. The anthills that the ants made always had that mini seeping hole in the middle of its apex. I always imagined these conical dirt pyramids to have worlds of busy ant-workers inside them, moving important ant parcels to and fro. Mail-ants, maid-ants, leisure-ants—whole villages, kingdoms, societies created from the dirt up. Yet, while their beautiful structures amazed me so, I still felt the need to build my own larger anthills with the purest of hopes that some ants might want to use mine as their factory of labor, their humble abode, or simply as a part of their community. They never did—perhaps because they never had to.
~
Subliminal layers of expression and influence make up our surrounding world. I notice how natural and pure my surroundings are as I wind down Route 1 along the coast of the Pacific Ocean through Baja, California, Mexico. Purity isn’t a quality many Americans know any longer; at least it isn’t something that we are surrounded with daily.
While we are one of the richest countries in the world, we scarcely find satisfaction. What can it be that will satiate our perpetual longing; where did this longing come from?
It is a cultural norm of America to want more, need more, expect more. Whether it be possessions, material things or abstract, intangible things, we cannot seem to find our climax. This entitlement to material wealth is ingrained in each ember of our society’s influence; most importantly, that colossal tyrant we are subjected to against our will—the media. Whether Americans are watching television and witnessing the plethora of morally drought programming, or Americans are simply experiencing the daily endeavors of running errands to Eckerd, the over-exposure of senseless expression surrounds us. We are drowning in cultural idiocy. Advertisements replace our landscapes as forced inspiration, and we are becoming inspired to never reach satisfaction.
So unsatisfied we are, that we invade other countries to search for outside revenue and capital gain.
~
In the first leg of my road trip through Baja, I witnessed poverty and misfortune. The misfortune was an 8-wheeler truck that had been halved by a fallen footbridge. Directly after the one-hour traffic jam that it had caused, was the sign: “Life, Up Ahead!”—The first three words of English I had seen since entering the country. The poverty was in the communities that lined the inland side of Route 1. Worn down shacks, windowless and dingy, and the only signs anywhere were Presidential election signs: Juan Sanchez por Presidente! Pablo Rodriguez! A wink, a bright smile, and a thumbs up.
Shelter: camping gear (sunscreen, tent, lantern, pillow). Travel: Tahoma Ford truck, journal, camera. Precaution: shovel, passport, and 4000 pesos. Each are the necessities for a ten-day road trip through Baja, Mexico. Necessary provisions: agua, fruit, tacos, and Mazapans, with the occasional mango juice. Mazapans and mango juice are two surrenders to splurging.
The beaches of Baja are natural, uninhibited and most importantly, un-owned. Many of the beaches are not seen as property to be owned, sold, rented, or guarded. As the natural portions of our world should be—they are free.
~
When I was growing up in Liverpool, New York, we used to drive up to Salmon River in Pulaski. Our summer hobbies included hiking through the untouched natural forests and basking in the sun underneath a massive beauty that was not constructed by man—the gorge at Salmon River that created an 80-foot waterfall. As the summers passed, hiking trails, lookout spots, fences, and tourist-friendly signs about the history and safety precautions of the area were slowly built around this natural wonder. Eventually, we found ourselves restricted against entering the natural pool of water that the waterfall created. Lifeguards were posted on what was now considered “state property”, and swimming was strictly prohibited.
While the innate desire to build on the beauty someone greater than us has created, our rights as humans to simply enjoy nature becomes stripped from us so gradually that it eventually becomes almost unnoticeable.
~
In camping along the beaches of Baja, Mexico, I learned the pure joy of uninhibited nature. Of the nine places that I camped throughout Baja, Ensenada, El Rosario, Mulege, San Jose Del Cabo, Todos Santos, La Paz, Loreto, Guerrero Negro, and Bahia de Los Angeles, none of the beaches were state property that withheld my right to sleep on free sand. And although such a freedom may not seem miraculous or significant, it is a freedom in which we have been stripped of and forgotten. The freedom to exist—to explore, experience and sleep—in nature without paying our dues to the government. Yet, while the value of these freedoms and nature exist elsewhere (example: Baja), I see these creeping developments occurring in such places that begin to frighten me. In San Jose Del Cabo, condominiums are being born. Where the culture and neighborhoods of the natives once existed, American companies are crossing borders, spreading capitalism, and reaping all the benefits; of course, with no heed of the results that aren’t the color green. Where fisherman used to make their business, golf courses, resorts and paved roads are making way for tourists to take vacation.
Though it may seem harmless to the Mexican people, even seem beneficial to Americans, the natives are not happy with this development. San Jose Del Cabo was the first town that I encountered with a “No Camping on the Beach” sign. In an attempt to find a beach without such said sign, my travel companion and I found ourselves weaving through the dirt roads of a quaint neighborhood, each bungalow tightly neighboring the next. Approaching the Sea of Cortez, we found ourselves face to face with an angry man, approaching us with a rifle.
~
But I can’t help the fact that I am incredibly drawn to looking at signs. Directional signs, advertisements, meaningless signs, personal signs, graffiti, any language posted for public view always draw my attention. Am I a product of our media driven culture? Or do I love reading so much that I continue my practice in public as much as possible?
~
The first words of English that I have seen since I got into the country, Life! Up Ahead, and they anger me. For three hours we have been driving, and as we come closer to Ensenada, Americans declare their presence more openly. Words are precious and meaningful; what are we saying America?