Sorry, Your Yard Was in The Way of My View of the Sunset

In high school, I used to believe that after death, you’re trapped in a world built from your own memories. Anywhere you haven’t been is a haze. (Farscape would not be produced for years after this.) I would comb the school over to see every bit of it – the attic, the teacher’s lounge, and the hall which ended in a service elevator.
But recently, I woke up and realized I have no idea how to get to my high school. I spent three years at its current location and drove there regularly. I have a vague idea of how to get there, but I’m missing one particular turn in my memory. I can remember how to drive to other people’s high schools, even those I’ve only visited once. Either my high school experience has not been relevant to my last couple decades of life, or I’ve blocked it out.
I grew up on Cape Cod, which is a weird mix of rich and poor, affluent and working class, conversation and progressive. My own family reflected this – we were technically upper-class but lived in a New England saltbox (without the slanted roof) that my dad designed as a challenge to himself, which eschewed concepts such as retaining sunlight, heat and proper air circulation. We had woods for a front yard and wood shavings for a backyard. He and my sister worked on their own cars while my mom ran off to perform in the Cape Cod Symphony Orchestra, and later, to teach biology at JFK UMass. In our neighborhood, we stuck out as teetering-on-trash-with-Volkswagens. It’s the sort of world in which parents of trust fund babies wish they had raised their kids. In fact, some did:
Where the Rich Bastards At
Like most of Cape Cod, Wings Neck is a pile of iceberg leavings, down the street from my neighborhood. It is also where members of the Town Council and Other Assorted Rich Bastards live. The road to Wing’s Neck was as cracked and pot-holy as they come, until you hit the stretch to Wing’s Neck itself, which was mysteriously well paved.
This is the inspiration for Sea Robin island. Neil had the idea for the tunnel. I had the idea that it would be well-paved. David Lewis and company are not Rich Bastards, but they are doing well enough thanks to… well, spoilers. There are other people on Sea Robin island who are Rich Bastards but I won’t get to them until later in the series.
I drove out to Wing’s Neck again before we started recording the series. There is a lighthouse at the end, (closer view) which you can rent out. I went there to record some sound effects but there was too much wind for them to be usable. Of all the sound effects I recorded that day, the only one that made it to the show was of my car driving from Old Silver Beach to the North Falmouth rotary. (That’s the scene in which David Lewis is driving with Leonard Allen.) I used to walk to this lighthouse all the time. There’s a sign that says “Private Property” and a chain link which cordons the road off. A chain link fence.
There’s another pair of groups on Cape Cod – the year ’rounders and the summer folk. We year ’rounders laugh our butts off at chain link fences. If the straightest line to the beach crosses three back yards and a dining room, we will happily make that bee-line without hesitation or guilt if nobody’s looking. I have been over that chain link fence before. I come from very passionate people with a working class ethic.
And so does The Mask of Inanna.

Alicia E. Goranson, Show Author

P.S. Incidentally, you can get the full flavor of this world from my novel, Provincetown, Ho!, available on the interwebs.

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