We are the grasshoppers

             I’ve had the nagging question in my mind for awhile now—just how essential is it that I do what I do? Why do I spend time and energy writing what I do? Why do I spend an hour playing in my hoop when I could/should be doing something ‘more productive’? When I’m driven to create, what does it even matter, really?

 I’ve lived in Noblesville for over a decade now, which in and of itself blows my mind. It was a fluke that we even landed here, lured by a real estate ad in the Indy Star one lazy Sunday. It was as though, in brief moment of perusing the ads we decided it was time to buy a house, and since the old house listing we ‘fell in love with’ was in Noblesville (wherever that was) we decided this was ‘it’ and fell in love with this town, too.

            I thought back to this after attending the recent launch party of Noblesville’s first literary journal, The Polk Street Review. My husband and I walked from our house to the party, which was held at our friends’ lovely home just a few blocks from ours. The wide, shallow front steps led to the inviting wraparound porch. The tables of libations beckoned me and I poured some wine and said hello to our Old Town friends gathered on the porch in the crisp, cool air.

            The rooms were full of chairs and people, the light was welcoming and I was aware of the satisfying click of my brown boots on the oak floors. Of course, I also noticed the table of delicious food and made that my second stop.

            I’m so glad to live in this town, and that night full of readings and creative energy and laughter is one of my best memories of living here. I’m always so inspired by the talented people here who create—not for glory or money or recognition but because they love to and they want and need to. The final reading of the night, The Ant and The Grasshopper, answered my nagging question.

            “Work is important. But play, and discussion, and love of non-essential things is also important. We are the grasshoppers and we are necessary. Long live the grasshopper!” (Introduction to The Polk Street Review)