A property owner in town mentioned recently that he found strangers camping on his land. He was tall in good manners when he told them they were on private land and would have to move. They did.
Several days later they were back, so the landowner called the authorities to make them leave.
“We’re becoming a sanctuary city,” he said. “We need to do something about these people before it gets out of hand.”
I wanted to say “these people” have nowhere to go. They fled their homes and country because they are afraid of their governments, marauders, and a drought that has ironed their land flatter than khakis They want to work. My stars, we all want to work – we’re not an idle species.
Instead, I told him I had the same thought – sort of. To me, it isn’t poor people who are poaching land and resources, it’s rich people. They get more bang for their buck here where taxes and population are lower than in the place they fled.
Wealthy people buy all the acreage they can, cut old growth hardwoods, punch deep wells that affect their neighbors’ water, build professionally designed mansions to accommodate two and visiting family, and install a coded iron gate out front.
The poor and the rich landing here are the same, only different. The poor have no money, the wealthy have no end to money. The poor are learning a non-romantic language and odd customs, the rich are escaping weather and taxes that are scarier than ours. Both are knee-deep in paperwork generated by AI. Both are making a break for it, and both are affecting our lives.
Which makes it all about us!
In Eureka Springs, there is an ongoing dispute on the collection and spending of tax money designated to promote tourism. One side wants the money to attract more people to come here and spend money. The other side is tired of the wake tourists leave, like a full-throttled speedboat passing a lagoon.
Towns in Italy, Spain, Norway, Tibet and other countries claim their culture is being ruined by tourism. Individually owned specialty shops are replaced by chains that mass produce whatever sells best. Charm is eaten and forgotten.
Years ago, White Winds wanted to create a theme park in Eureka Springs. It was a boon for landowners, Taco Bell, Marriott, and highway builders. White Winds fizzled when someone pointed out that we already are a theme park.
It’s true, our tourism isn’t what it used to be. People once rented a cabin in a tourist court, or a hotel room. They breathed deeply, explored, bought a funnel cake for the fun of it, some handmade crafts, and three postcards – “Wish you were here!” – to send an aunt, a neighbor and their boss.
Today’s tourist in Eureka Springs might ride a Harley with a sound system that sounds like an amplified 12-note tornado siren. They take pictures with their phones and post them on social media so the world can see what they’re doing and where they’re doing it.
Or they might hole up in a room, stroll around and admire what we are proud of.
Whatever tourists come to this town, they should expect a place to park, a public bathroom that’s open and clean, and no wild animals roaming the streets. We do our best to ensure all of that. Sometimes we fail, but not twice.
Yes, things aren’t as they once were. Anywhere. But using consideration and good manners will steer us to solutions.
All it takes to live well on this planet is sensible people, those who understand that our situations can be a warning or an example. We don’t need to mock and threaten each other, goodness, we all know we can hurt people just as well without swear words, right?
It’d be huge fun to keep on lovin’ each other until we lose our minds. That would draw tourists who don’t want to disturb us.