I've always been one of those people who likes to stop at grocery store bulletin boards and read what everybody else is selling, giving away, or attempting to find. Maybe I'm just nosey, I'm not sure, but viewing them makes me feel like I have a finger on the pulse of my community. But I've never thought any deeper about it than that. Then yesterday, as I was reading a passage from the novel called The Lay of the Land by Richard Ford, I came across this observation from protagonist Frank Bascombe: "I regularly check all such notice boards in Sea-Clift--by the shopping carts at Angelico's, above the bait tank at Ocean-Gold Marina--standing arms folded, studying the cards for kittens lost, dinette sets to sell, collections of Ezio Pinza '78's, boats with trailers, boats without, descriptions of oldsters wandered off, the regular appeal for the young motorcycle victim in the ICU. Even Purple Hearts are for sale. You can eavesdrop on the spirit of a place from these messages, sense its inner shifts and seismic fidgets--important in my line of work, and more accurate than what the Chamber of Commerce will tell you. Real life writ small is here, etched with our wishes, losses and dismays."
I love his "you can eavesdrop on the spirit of a place from these messages" observation. And his point about a public bulletin board being more accurate that what the Chamber of Commerce will tell you is so true. The Chamber could probably quote all sorts of demographic data, but probably couldn't tell you that 99 Toyota's are all the rage in the southern part of town, or that the western part of town seems to have more free kittens named Gershwin than anybody ever would have imagined. And what does is say about a community that doesn't have any cats named Fluffy available?
I don't think I'll ever look at a public bulletin board the same way after reading Bascombe's take on them.
