Loss in the Wake of Something New
For me, personal posts on social media platforms have always
been fraught with a certain amount of hesitation. The exhibitionistic and hence voyeuristic
nature of a mass exchange of poignant moments hijacked for the purposes of data
gathering and segmented mass marketing seems to cheapen genuine communion. So here I was on the day I had decided to
help my dog pass quietly away, pondering as to whether or not I wanted to
simply post a picture of him as a cover photo.
That need to connect, to share with people, is so fundamental to
assuaging the essential loneliness of the human condition. Because ultimately, as much as people can
empathize, no one really can know what you are going through and how you
perceive things.
Still, we strive to connect.
And on some levels in this world of digitized, monitored and monetized
feelings we do. This brings me back to
community.
The past five years I have been struggling to hold together
and grow a community. What started out
as sharing workspace almost 10 years ago became something more. Family.
Tribe. Community. Call it what you want, but the place where I
lived and based my work out of became that for me and for others.
Establishing a permanent home for my tribe has been a long
and odious task at best. From acquiring,
to planning, to developing, there has not been one pitfall that I have
sidestepped. After the hiring and firing
of two general contractors and working through a process that is caliginous at
best, I slouch toward completion excited, but worse for wear and minus a member of that
community for which I was working so hard to build a home.
You see, my dog Bailey and his canine mate Ginger who died a few years back, inhabited that first building we lived and worked out of at Highpoint and Moore Street. They were shop dogs, sometimes under foot but always happy to be a part of a pack. At the end of a long day, opening the door to what was essentially a brick and mortar shell was like coming home, tails wagging and pups ready to walk the neighborhood that was their domain.
As we got closer to construction, Rob, Claire and I took up
residence in a traditional home and Bailey has resided in the comforts of an air conditioned abode. I was
always pushing to get this project done so that we could get back to where we
were, but in a newer polished place that wasn’t a collection of leaks, faulty
wiring and dusty surfaces. Since this
all began, we have picked up a new little guy along the way, Sherman, a
Staffordshire bull terrier. While it
won’t be quite the same without Bailey and Ginger, the original gangster
doggies, he will come to know what it is to be a shop dog as his mommy will surely have him in tow when crafting jewelry or plugging away tending the books.
This is why The Highpoint has a policy open to pets. As people work longer and harder hours,
shouldn’t they be able to bring those people and pets that enrich their lives
to work if they so choose? My only
regret is that I got in the way of this coming together sooner. Maybe my vision was too big or my lack of
understanding fell short. Perhaps I
could have worked harder and been more willing to compromise. It is not lost on me that the whole
neighborhood has seemed to develop around us as our project has plodded along.
Now that things are going and we have officially broken
ground, there are forces that will undoubtedly push this to a quick and
hopefully smooth completion. Deadlines will be met and our mortgage is building interest that needs to be paid. When the doors open, we will welcome new
friends, forge moments that will pass into fond memories, and hopefully find
ourselves in a warm little center of where we want to be.
Still, I’ll miss Bailey.
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