A sense of place, a sense of place, a loss of sensation in one's extremities: a review of Michael Perry's Truck: a Love Story

Usually I reserve my postings for subjects that are "strictly" urban planning in nature. But I have recently returned from the Midwest, where I spent the majority of my childhood and it has given me cause for reflection for what it means to live there.

The majority of the Midwest is not really known for monumental urban planning projects. With the exception of the major cities, Chicago, Minneapolis/St. Paul, Madison, and Milwaukee, not a lot of earth-shattering and uprooting change goes on in the sleepy towns of the heartland. My grandparents' town of Marshfield, WI put in a new bridge/overpass a few years ago and it still confuses people, especially those of us who don't visit as often as we'd like.

This does not mean that I consider big cities superior to their smaller counterparts in any way. Not at all. I will say that there is more that appeals to me in a big city that a small town cannot offer. But when the hub-bub of big city living grinds me down it's nice to know that there's a quiet place that I can go where I won't be judged on my musical knowledge, or lack thereof,
worry about getting mugged, missing the last train home, etc.,

As we were driving from St. Paul, Minnesota to Marshfield, Wisconsin- very over the hills and through the woods- (the Jeep knows the way to carry the sleigh?) I thought of a rather touching memoir that I had read. It is called Truck: a Love Story by a Mr. Michael Perry, who also wrote Population: 485. My dad had given Truck to me for Christmas last year and at first I had to feign enthusiasm. If he thought that I was going to read a self-indulgent memoir about a redneck and his joyous adventures overhauling his beloved Chevy while telling jokes of dubious taste he had another thing coming.

However, my dad has rather good, though eccentric, taste and this work was nothing like what the cover implied. I love memoirs and this book did not break my faith in the genre.

Mr. Perry lives in the tiny town of New Auburn, Wisconsin, population 485, like Mr. Perry's work implies, not exactly a happenin' metropolis and is just as cold as Minneapolis, hence my title alluding to the loss of feeling in one's fingers and toes :-) But Mr. Perry gives his real-life characters a tangible sense of grace and dignity as they go about their modest lives. Based on the inside cover flap author pix Brad Pitt does not have to worry about anyone stealing his position of first place for best lookin'. But Mr. Perry what may lack in conventional good looks, he makes up for in talent, capturing small town living with a certain eloquence.

His story centers around a year in his life as he does indeed try to restore his beloved rust bucket of a truck despite limited mechanical knowledge. But it is much more than that. He tries to grow his own vegetables- no small feat in a state that is not sympathetic to amateur gardeners, overcome the visual discrimination he receives outside of small town living where everyone tends to be a little scruffy around the edges, and even falls in love.

We drove through many small towns like New Auburn, and I'm sure I've driven through New Auburn itself on numerous occasions without a thought as to what it is like living there. I grew up in towns of modest size, about 35-38,000 people and I plan to live in a suburb of L.A., hopefully Santa Monica, in the future. And while the prospect of living in a town that has a population smaller than my high school secretly horrifies me, Truck shows me that home is really where the heart is even if they don't have a Barnes and Noble within reasonable driving distance ;-) Size a home does not make. It is where you love and are loved.

On that note, if you need me I'll be rereading Truck and the simple joys and frustrations of small town living it revels in. Best to you dear reader in this new year.