Nowhere Man

One thing I’ve learned is to not idealize the past. On the farm, for instance, in those later years before we moved to Oregon, I would eat a fresh lemon a few minutes after rising; then I’d have a small cup of coffee; then, depending on the time of year — our lemon tree was an ever-bearing variety — I’d either have breakfast, or I’d go outside to greet and be greeted by our dogs and tend to the first chores of the day. We had no TV. We did have a radio, but I rarely turned it on. No computer — I didn’t even know what email was. And so it was a quiet old-fashioned kind of life, in those ways much nicer than the busier, more distracted one we’re surrounded with now. So why did we move? For the simple reason that the pollution was so bad we couldn’t breathe, and that our air and groundwater were poisoned by agricultural chemicals. A sunset in which the sun disappears into a sea of brown filth before it descends to the horizon, isn’t really a sunset at all — especially if you have four bright young children with healthy pink lungs. And so we packed up an moved away, leaving behind family, friends, and birthplace, leaving behind lemons, grapes, and figs, and dozens of other things that we’d been accustomed to since childhood. In a sense, we became refugees in search of clean water and fresh air. These we found. And life went on, still without television, without a computer. We lived a life of books, pens, pencils, postage stamps, and paper. We read the newspaper, when it was still a great big broadsheet full of articles written by people who lived right here in town. And that past must also not be idealized, because it was attended by great difficulties, most of which were self-inflicted, arising as they did from a lack of self-understanding. The point being, I keep what I’ve learned and let go of the rest — I keep the “wisdom,” if you will, and try to pass a little of it along while I still can. These are the good old days, with or without rose-colored glasses. These are the only days. This is the only moment. Comparing the present with the past is an exercise in futility. Living now is the only thing I or anyone can do. It’s the only thing in the human realm that’s real. As soon as I lament what’s gone, I’m not here, I’m nowhere.

[ 2060 ]