Our gated community is a microcosm of the County.
Some folks aren't sure that others belong here. Cries of "this isn't what I bought into" echo through the streets like the Flagler disaffected saying "this isn't why I moved here."
At its heart, this smells like snobbery. "I'm OK, but you're not OK." It's not even an issue about money. It's merely a matter of being of a like kind or like mind.
In this gated community, some settled into what they were told was an adult only neighborhood. Others came because they were informed that families would thrive. Did these people hear what was said or what they wanted to hear? Unless the salespeople were wired like the Nixon White House, we'll never know.
It's painful to pick up and move somewhere and feel either unwelcome or the victim of gross misrepresentation.
Letters to the editor I've seen over my nearly three years here offer the expected and simplistic antidote: Move. Go back. Get out of dodge. Outta here!
It sounds like the school kids' "like it or lump it" mantra from four decades ago but on a surreal and quasi-metaphysical scale.
It's funny. While many may view gated communities as homogenous, and deserving of whatever ills and internecine battles befall them, it's troubling to think such attitudes could exist on a City or Countywide basis.
Of course we know that they do. Such feelings exist on national, racial, economic, and religious levels.
People are more comfortable among their own kind. While this sounds harmless enough to those preferring free and joyous associations, it's debilitating to those on the outside -- of the gate.
The gate, however is life. Your life. Your age, sex, race, job, health, color, religion, and maybe even your sports team affiliation.
No matter how hard we may try to prevent it, we can't not expose differences amongst ourselves to justify why we seek separate spheres, dooming us to wallow there and not mingle with those outside our class, group or likeness.
It would be comical to observe how we perform this queer ritual if it weren't so gut wrenching.
Those excluded or unwelcome feel alienated, despaired, and angry. Folks tolerating the unwanted foisted upon them are put out, disgusted, and angry.
Do you notice the commonality? And what is anger's source?
Hurt.
We hurt. We get hurt. We hate to hurt. But we hate getting along more. It's more difficult to accept people than to draw a line in the sand.
How will this dynamic affect our kids? Don't think they don't see it.
In the past 10 years, Flagler's total population grew by nearly 74%. Public school kids increased 60%
For those of you who are mathematically inclined, you know that the adults win.
But win what? A community with a large increase of kids? Ugh. We can't have that. That could inject a different dimension -- some heterogeneity -- into the mix and fram up an otherwise placid, predictable, and pleasant future.
What are we to do?
I'm reminded of Rodney King's "can't we just get along?" plea years ago. You'll recall that he's the cultural icon for deserved or undeserved police action.
Of course, we can't get along and won't do it. It takes a lot of love, work, and patience. Those commodities are usually in very short supply.
Instead, we build walls. We draw boundaries. Let's not talk, interact or get to know each other.
It's every man, woman, child, dog, armadillo and parakeet for him, her or itself.
Let's revel in Darwinism in action. This could be the pilot of another of those "Reality TV" shows. I can hear the announcer now: "Tune in next week to watch septuagenarians ride the wild surf while pre-teens construct nuclear power plants in your backyard."
Each tribe, er, I mean, group has its own strengths and weaknesses.
Adults possess greater wisdom and resources, but they die sooner. Kids have unlimited energy but lack couth and depth. Animals live off the land and can sleep in the rain.
It'll be great fun to see who survives.
One thing's for sure. I'll be the first one voted off the Island.
++++
Fred W. Apelquist, III, M. Ed.
Approximately 700 words.
(C) 2001