Moving back to the land of sprawl and cars, cars, cars has been hard on this ol' gal. I learned to drive only a year ago out of necessity (and the desire to conquer a fear that had grown over time to rather epic proportions), and I'm glad I did -- it's good to have options. But I don't like what it's done to me. Driving isn't healthy. It's changed the way we live in the world -- the way we shape the world around us, the way we structure our time, the way we interact (or not) with each other. Driving is all about the destination -- about getting from Point A to Point B as quickly as possible and filling the in-between time with as many distractions as possible (phone calls, texting, eating, putting on makeup -- it's amazing the things people try to accomplish while driving).
Come walk with me. Life is all around you -- on a lovely day, all of humanity is out in full-force: there's an elderly couple digging in their garden, there are kids of all shapes and sizes on bikes, on skates and skateboards, boys wrestling in the grass, girls gossiping on front stoops. Babies are as abundant as rosebuds in early summer -- pushed around in strollers by teams of moms and dads, slung on hips, toddling unsteadily across lawns and playgrounds. Dogs trot happily alongside their humans. Cats lounge on porches, or stare longingly out of windows. As you walk, you pass a shop you hadn't noticed before -- you go in -- it feels like a discovery. You leave the shop with a used book, or a new pen, or a homemade fudge brownie -- or maybe nothing, but you know you'll be back later. You keep walking and almost step on a severed Barbie head -- no sign of the rest of her body anywhere around -- you pick it up and put it in your pocket -- a souvenir. Or maybe you find a lone earring -- something a little gaudy and young, lost by a teenage girl while in an argument with her boyfriend over how come he kept talking to Maria, that skank, all night, instead of her? You are surrounded by stories -- stories of love, betrayal , abandonment, despair, hope, joy -- behind every door and window, laying on sidewalks and in storefronts and propped up against dumpsters in alleys.
If you drive all the time, everywhere you go, you miss all of this life. All of this beauty and sadness and violence and tenderness. Get out of your car. You know you want to.
I lived on a farm for 3 years until I met Robin. Those walks with the dogs were primal - the stuff the earth coughs up: beautiful rocks of various minerals, skeletons, wildflowers, fur, crops, and wild animals of all sorts.
ReplyDeleteIt was pretty amazing that one day, we'd see geese. The next, sandhill cranes. Next, deer. Turkeys. Coyotes.
I found the biggest whitetail rack I've ever been able to hold in my hands out there - a 10 point, shed in the Winter, both sets of antlers dropped right next to each other. What a find! They usually drop them in February, so he survived the hunting season.
It's not the same as what you write about - yours are remnants and discoveries and hints of society, culture, human interaction. Mine were really the opposite of that...nature in its unaltered (or slightly altered) state.
Both are beautiful, though. And a joy to experience.
I agree. I can't wait to get new walking shoes for spring! The world is so much nicer when you can walk.
ReplyDeleteBrandon -- we lived in West Virginia for three years, in the mountains, in a tiny old used-to-be-coal-mining town. It was my favorite place I ever lived, and the walks -- well, the walks were life-affirming. The only thing that would get to me was the litter -- it wasn't everywhere -- just spots where people would fish, and leave their beer cans and bottles, etc. behind.
ReplyDeleteVick -- hurray for new walking shoes!!
While I totally agree that walking is important and do love a good walk, I must say that I absolutely LOVE to drive. It is not, to me, all about the destination (tho when I drive in the city, that's usually my main focus, lest I get plowed into - Philly is particularly dangerous, whether walking or driving, to be honest). Philadelphia makes driving more stressful and less fun. In general, though, driving is freedom.
ReplyDeleteAs soon as I get out of the city streets, oh how I love to drive! Part of why rising gasoline prices always fill me with dismay is that I love to be behind the wheel, motoring along toward the next whatever it is. Sometimes I want to be by myself, think, get away from what I see every day. And my lovely little car gets me there. Particularly on longer drives (more than 30 hours, up to several hours), I tend to drive in total silence for a long time. It's hard to get that kind of solitude elsewhere, and give yourself new perspective. I do a lot of thinking on the road, as I admire the fields and valleys and mountains and woods and rivers flying by. And if I have the opportunity to pull off and just look, just sit and take it in, I do.
I must say, I'm rather old-fashioned in that I simply enjoy a good drive. I know that "back in the day", people would get in the car for the sake of it, because cars were still a luxury item, a chance for escape from the every day. I recently read Julia Child's book, My Life in France (which you would love, Marge; if you haven't read it already, do), and she talks about how some of her favorite times involved packing a picnic and driving off into the country to find a quiet spot to dwell in for awhile. It sounds like for you, driving is totally mundane. Although I know how much you love your walking, I hope that sometime you get to drive as something fun, something different. That, at some point, driving gets you somewhere you couldn't go otherwise and gives you a bit of a thrill. I tend to find it pretty magical, myself. (And this coming from someone who can't wait to go walk in the woods at Deep Creek Lake later this week, haha - I do have to drive to get back there!)
I know that doesn't make me very green, but hey, I drive a little sedan, not a Hummer. So I'm okay with it.