MORE TO IT THAN THAT

"Move to Denver!" he said.

The place is "booming," with over 50,000 jobs going begging, according to my well-intentioned correspondent. He painted a rousing picture of opportunity and excitement. Just think of it: all the money I'd ever want and plenty of malls to spend it in, the solution to all our problems, solved in one fell swoop by succumbing to the American Dream.

And a very nice dream it is, too! A clean, warm place to live, full refrigerator, benefits, and -- Huh? BENEFITS, dammit! You know, the stuff that everybody else has but you don't because you work on the Web. . . aarghh!

Well, buddy o' mine, while I deeply appreciate the concern that motivated the suggestion, that just wouldn't work for me. I've never wanted a house in the suburbs with an SUV in the garage*, not even once. In fact, I've always run screaming as far in the other direction as I could, which is probably why I'm sitting in front of my 8600 up in the mountains of New Mexico learning what fear is all about. For the moment at least, no matter how much I surf, type, and click, there still isn't enough cash pouring out of this wretched excuse for a money machine. "This is the NEW ECONOMY, you dummy!" I yell at the unblinking Sony monitor, but nothing happens. A lot it knows. . .

"Uh, wait a minute". . . [looking behind the monitor, then peering under desk] . . ."No, nothing down there. Thought I might have missed some. Rats!"

We're different from some folks we know, my wife and I. We really don't believe in making unbearable sacrifices to tap into consumer heaven (some things, like LIFE, are just more important). If my Iowa wife was all that concerned about amassing wealth, she never would have quit the college teaching job that no longer allowed her a life. In any case, it's my turn now! (Johnny Internet rides again.) Now is the time to put that Macintosh to work and pay the bills, to lever us once again up into the middle class. Not so we can have an SUV in the garage, you understand, but just so I can stop worrying. My sweetie only requires a modicum of security to be happy, and unfortunately, we're not quite there yet.

No, we won't move to Denver (or any other big city) just to find jobs. That's not our style. We've always believed in following our hearts, and neither of them beats for freeways, malls, or smog, even if there are mountains nearby. Money isn't always the main consideration, at least not to my looney perceptions. Financial well-being isn't really the kind of security I'm talking about, although right now it would address a lot of my concerns. We had money before we moved, you know, but something wasn't right and it was time for a change.

I suppose I'm the quintessential Macintosh idiot, because I have always believed I could do anything -- and this machine can do everything! What do you want, graphics? Word processing? Multimedia? Internet work? You name it, my PowerMac can do it. All it needs is a pilot, a driver, a man with a plan (and belief in himself). Put those together and with luck they equal fun -- serious fun, that is, the real McCoy, the kind of work that equals joy. Empowerment, that's the ticket! Grab life by the shoulders and give it a shake! Anybody with a computer and an Internet connection is at least potentially empowered in this way, and if you tend toward the "artiste" end of the spectrum like I do, you'll find you get the most satisfaction from turning your own creative efforts into making a living. That's what this equipment is for, doggone it, and that's why I won't move to Denver to work for somebody else doing something I don't like.

Believing in miracles goes against the grain of my upbringing but fits in perfectly with my personal religion. I wanted to show that we could do whatever we wanted, go from Point A to Point Z, without knowing beforehand what lay between. This is a spiritual quest, not a pragmatic one. It isn't about the money, it's about transcending the metaphysical struggle between fear and hope. SOMEBODY has to do this shit. (Besides, I hate good advice! :-)

Meanwhile, New Mexico marches on.

Those of you who live where the landscape is less than stupendous may be glad to hear that one of the poorest states in the Union is also one of the most expensive. If you compare things like the cost of basic health insurance, for instance, you'll find that it costs more here than in Boston! Going farther into the search, I discovered that minimal insurance here costs double what it does back in Maryland. The only reason I can come up with is that there are no doctors here. Well, there are doctors, just not very many of them. I looked up the only health plan I could buy on the Internet that was listed for New Mexico and clicked on the Physician's Directory link to see who was participating. Um. . . I looked again to make sure I was looking at the statewide list: um. . . well, let's just say I understand now when someone in Taos tells me he has to go see his doctor in Albuquerque (3 hours away). This is not a place to get sick in!

It is, however, incredibly, unimaginably, and astoundingly beautiful. The air is pure and clean. The cultural diversity is thrilling. The food is better here than any place I have ever lived, although if we give sweet corn and vine-ripened tomatoes priority, Maryland takes the nod. Just as I can say that none of my friends back East have ever had real enchiladas, I can say that no one here has any idea what truly good corn tastes like. Tomatoes are the mystery, though: everything I eat here has chopped or sliced tomatoes in it, but where do they come from? If you think that's a silly question, just try growing 'em at 7,000 feet. And the point of these comparisons?

"It's always something!" (Thank you, Gilda!)

Sure, I want to be well-off, but it has to happen as a result of doing what I want to do. Yes, I miss my old friends and the green jungle back East, but the last time I looked, they weren't here. :-( Sure, there are plenty of jobs in Denver, but I don't want them! Heck, I'm already in the mountains and I have a Mac, two of them, actually. Geez, can't I do what I want? [moan, wail] And the answer is, "Son, we don't pass out the prizes 'til the game is over!" Or expressed another way: when my ebook is ready for downloading, you'll be the first to know!

(Uh, after the Iowa girl, of course. . .)

John H. Farr edits the news for Applelinks.com and invites your comments. The Farr Site Archives will take you to the past two years' worth of columns. John also writes his WebFaust column for MacAddict.com and a monthly op-ed page column called "El Emigrante" for Horse Fly in Taos, NM. He's also got some JPEG-laden weirdness going on at a special project he hasn't been updating regularly enough, Zoozone News.

* In the old days I would have said "station wagon in the garage," but just try finding one of those anymore!

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