Casting an Eye Toward Somewhere Else

Exceptionally heavy rain pounds the roof, its sound dominating the roar of thunder. Occasional flashes of dim, distant lightning periodically illuminate the room. Twice, the background noise of wind and rain and water flowing through gutters and downspouts, though loud, is punctuated by the jarring screech of the NOAA weather radio. Flash flood watches and warnings alert people, awakened by the din, to take appropriate precautions. Whatever appropriate precautions are, as I lie awake in the wee hours, situated in an area not prone to flooding. The heavy rain subsides, as the few hours remaining until dawn grow comparatively quiet. No more lightning flashes. No more screaming radio warnings. The pause in the hours-long deluge is temporary, though, new bouts of heavy rain causing more noise. No more sleep. At least not right away. And probably not until quite a while after nightfall, many hours away.

Once the Sandman’s spell is broken, sleep is no longer a refuge from the previous day’s worries. Viewing online news reports, almost identical from source to source in the general media, consumes most of the residual time until daylight. The news is not good. Trump’s lies during his CNN town hall capture most of the headlines. Naturally, the adoring studio audience for his undeserved and unwarranted opportunity to continue spreading his infectious venom laps up his psychopathic world view. I am unwilling to give his fans even a shred of benefit of the doubt: they are just as deluded and just as dangerous as he. I want to be compassionate and understanding, but there is a point beyond which I simply cannot go.

+++

The outgoing Prime Minister of Finland has announced her divorce from her husband of 19 years. Why that merits international news coverage is beyond me. Perhaps legitimate allegations of bad behaviors leading up to the divorce might warrant media interest, but as far as I can tell she has provided evidence that allegations of “bad behavior” have been false or, at least, unproven. Maybe, though, I am being too forgiving. And hypocritical. If Trump had been alleged to have engaged in despicable behaviors (which he has), I would dismiss out of hand any “evidence” of his “decency.” But, still. Is the marital relationship of national leaders really a concern to their ability to lead? I doubt it. But I am not certain. Nothing is cut and dried. Nothing is black and white. Except matters that are clearly black and white. Which is always subject to disagreement. And there we go.

+++

Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love.

~ William Shakespeare ~

+++

The poetry contained within excellent prose is evidence of the inherent beauty of language. When we say a prose passage is “poetic,” we acknowledge the ability of poetry—and therefore language in general—to move us. Poetry hidden behind the façade of engaging language reveals emotion and emotional clarity. Stiff language, language that sounds and feels arrogant or artificial, may pretend to be poetry, but it is not. Malleable language that can either conform to emotional extremes or produce them is poetic language. But, despite experts’ protestations to the contrary, no one can define poetry with enough precision to differentiate between poetry and simple text. At least that’s my position on the matter this morning at 5:41.

+++

Driving through Dayton and some of its suburbs in recent days helped me understand what I desire about a place to live. I want distance, but not too much, from neighbors. I want solitude, but not total seclusion. I want isolation, but not loneliness. I want the look of quiet, expansive estates mixed with the feel of a string of bustling villages separated by greenspace. Many of the residential and commercial environments around Dayton—at least several of them I saw—exude a very casual but quite sophisticated ambiance. Not far from some of the most appealing suburbs, like Yellow Springs, urbanity gives way to peaceful, bucolic scenery. Rural and urban environments coexist, as if their symbiotic relationships were meticulously planned. I like what I saw of Dayton and the surrounding area. Wandering around the eastern and southern suburbs of Dayton, I experienced déjà vu, a return to the four years—when I lived in Chicago—I spent weekends driving around Wisconsin, Indiana, Michigan, and north-central Illinois. That part of the country combines urban and rural in ways I have not seen in Texas and Arkansas. In those two states, urban and rural settings seem fractured, separated into two distinct and highly competitive (and combative) environments. In an ideal world, I want to live in a place with synergies between diverse, but highly supportive, populations. I would like a place in which politics and religion generally are private, but when they cross into the public sphere, they do so in cordial ways—ways in which civil debates take place, rather than bad-mannered arguments. I want neither large extreme right-wing nor large extreme left-wing populations; both extremes are bigoted, close-minded, and unpleasant. And, if the world were ideal, the ideal place would have four seasons; but not extreme seasons. My fantasy location would be free of chiggers and mosquitoes. Poverty would be offset by opportunity and philanthropy. Healthcare would be of excellent quality and available to everyone. Cancer and its dozens of cousins—diseases and injuries—would be cured or controlled.

Somewhere between the fantastic and the attainable, a place exists that satisfies sufficient “wishes” and avoids enough of the disliked and the loathed. Might it be Ohio? Might it be population centers in Oklahoma or New Mexico? Might it be in Missouri or Kansas? Might it be in Wisconsin? New York? Is Arkansas as close as I’ll ever get? And what would be the trigger that would prompt me to change my life from what it is to what it could be? I am restless. But I am a realist, as well. Every place has its pros and cons. Ultimately, its suitability amounts to a comparative analysis of the extent to which it checks the boxes that support or oppose collective likes and dislikes.

+++

During our ongoing wanderings, mi novia and I have successfully avoided most “big” cities. We skirted Cincinnati and Memphis and Indianapolis, though we drove through Lexington. We avoided Nashville and St. Louis and Louisville all together. Our drive on the way to Dayton took us considerably longer than it would have done, had we taken interstate highways the entire trip. Avoiding interstate highways enabled us—especially me—to avoid the stress and tension of high-speed, crowded thoroughfares. Two-lane back roads with comparatively little traffic and more pleasant scenery made the trip northeast relaxing and energizing. Seeing my brother, his son, and his daughter-in-law (as well as his son’s mother—my brother’s ex-wife) was a gratifying, enjoyable experience. That’s the kind of travel I like more and more as I ripen. Relatively slow, simple, and dedicated in part to comfort and ease. Still, we had timelines to keep. That is the only part I found stressful. I would have enjoyed it even more if we had neither obligations nor constraints; I would like to feel comfortable driving just a few miles per day if it suited me. I would like to be comfortable stopping at every historic marker and exploring every small town, if I wanted to. I suppose that opportunity is available only to retirees…but, wait…I retired 12 years ago and have yet to accommodate that desire. Hmm.

+++

Today’s weather is apt to be wet, overcast, very warm, and humid. That presents the ideal set of circumstances for a gathering of friends for conversation and whatever mode of relaxation each one might prefer. There is nothing wrong with seeking comfort and enjoyment of people in one’s company. In fact, it provides a break from a person’s less enjoyable obligations. We should look out for one another that way; helping others (and oneself) to relieve the stresses and strains and routine challenges of day-to-day life. Yes, that is the key to happiness. At least one of them.

+++

My second cup of coffee is nearly gone. What’s left is cold and rather unappealing. I will not make another cup, though. Instead, I will sit back and play word games until the day begins unfolding for people who are sleeping later than I did this morning.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

I wish you would tell me what you think about this post...

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.