I have changed.

Wednesday, February 13, 2002

I have changed. I hadn’t planned on changing&160;- these things just happen. It is called progress. For years my address was RR1 Box 56A. A nice substantial sounding address. A good American, rural sounding address. An address like that gives you a feeling of belonging. Now I have become 71622 325 Street. I did this without any moving requirement on my part. My wife says that I do most things without moving. I call it meditating; she calls it slothfulness.

But that’s a different story. The county has instituted a rural addressing system and presented me with yet another long number to remember. I am sure it will be a good thing. It will help ambulance, police, fire, pizza delivery and other emergency services find us cliff dwellers. The signed streets, avenues and house numbers make navigating our rural roads a piece of cake. This said, I am not completely happy with the new system. It has taken something away from us – the art of creative direction giving is a thing of the past.

&uot;How do I get to the home of Alfie Dodin?’ asked the driver of the Volvo who pulled into my yard. He was wearing a beret. We don’t get many berets in Hartland. I go against my better judgement and decide to help the guy out, even though I do not like to be bothered while I am pretending to fix the lawn mower. I find that staring at the spark plug for incredibly long periods of time works wonders with our mowers. Small engine repair via mind control. My wife doesn’t understand this process. It’s a guy thing.

I looked at my visitor in the beret. Real men do not stop and ask for directions. Real men only stop to read historical markers.

&uot;Do you want to get to the Dodin’s new home or their old home?&uot; I asked.

&uot;Well, their new residence, of course!&uot; came the answer. Beret wearers are a touchy lot.

&uot;Excellent choice,&uot; I replied. &uot;Because they don’t live in their old place anymore. Somebody named Hawkins or Haskins or Higgins lives there now. Whoever it is, they paid way too much for the place. You wonder how people ever got so much money if they are willing to blow it all on a dump like that. The Dodins moved to the old Johnny Johnson place. You know it?’

&uot;No, that is why I am asking you!&uot; Beret wearers are an impatient bunch.

&uot;Okay,&uot; I said. &uot;Head right down this road here. Take a right where the biggest cottonwood in the township used to be. Keep going down the rough road until you pass the spot where the old schoolhouse used to be before it was moved to Kilkenny. Turn left and keep heading down that road until you come to a bridge. You should have turned north about a mile before that bridge. You have got to pay more attention, unless you want to be like that poor Boy Scout troop that was lost for about a week after asking me for directions. So you turn before you get to the bridge and you will go right by the old Sorenson place. Look for a place with nothing there. That will be the old Sorenson place. The buildings all burned down in 1971. Next you need to avoid that bottomless pothole on what we call the Hamster Trail. If you make it past the pothole -&160;there might be a Mazda in it&160;-&160;start looking for a big brown cow on your left. That will be Oscar Olson’s cow. Make sure you wave at the bovine. She likes that. I think being a cow can get kind of boring. Then keep driving down the washboard road until you are sure you are lost or until your license plate falls off. The Dodin place is the next driveway on the left. Here let me draw you a map on the instruction manual for my lawn mower. I’ll never use it anyway.&uot;

Now I’d just tell the guy in the beret that the Dodins live on 12345 999th Avenue. Where is the fun in that?

Change is necessary, but it isn’t always easy. Giving directions will become a lost art -&160;something told only by old geezers to their grandchildren as they sit around a fire. Oh, I’ll get used to being 71622 325 Street, but I will miss watching someone I have given directions to drive past my driveway over and over again.

Hartland resident Al Batt writes columns for the Wednesday and Sunday editions of the Tribune.