Becoming an old man of 30 forces a person to stop and reflect on the last burning embers of their youth.
Much like Stephen Dedalus who outgrew his Dubliner past, Connecticut proved too confining for your correspondent. Having driven coast to coast across the surface of a continent from one great ocean to the other … America’s own versions of Tierra del Fuego ( literally “Land of Fire,” with a much older meaning “The End of the Earth” ) call out to be seen. Having been born in Denver and straddled the Continental Divide a week into life, wanderlust has since consumed me.
Daedalus, in Greek mythology, was hired by Crete’s king to build a labyrinth to imprison the Minotaur. The story goes that an Athenian hero was able to slay the beast, angering Poseidon who trapped Daedalus and his son, Icarus, in a tower. The cunning artisan built wings from wax and the feathers of birds that flew by … we all know the rest.
James Joyce created his alter ego Stephen Hero, Phoenix-like, from this myth. The artist constructed such great work, he nearly lost himself in it. Creating the gift of flight with his bare hands, his son lost sight and plummeted into the sea. Perhaps the labyrinthine artifice of writing code also relates to this myth? Our hero survived his son not because of his genius, but out of simple balance.
Or, perhaps, could the allure of the open road, the timeless search for meaning, be more of a warning to the New York Times’ dystopian review: even the most frantic of Kerouac’s writings were really the sagas of a solitary seeker: poor, sad Jack, adrift in a world without mercy when he’d rather be ’safe in Heaven dead.’ On the Road detailed the gritty, not always pleasant reality of modern, “western” nomad life; still, life beckons onward.
Steven Bradley “tagged” me with a
blog meme: What I Do When I’m Not Working; the answer is remarkably simple. The map above hasn’t changed significantly in the few years I’ve been living here in Seattle. The one on the left, quite obviously, has seen a remarkable transformation.
I decided to move here based on the spent few hours I’d spent in Seattle, and few weeks in the camping up and down the Cascades. This was in the midst of a two month road trip from San Francisco to New England.
So, how do I spend my free time? I’ll be celebrating the new era in Olympic National Park, woefully underrepresented in my travels. The Columbia River Gorge deserves another visit while the mountains are covered in snow, as does North Cascades Nat’l Park. It seems almost negligent to see that I have yet to see the San Juan islands or Victoria.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter - tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther … and one fine morning -
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
With little choice, I took the cat in for the night, then to a veterinarian the next day to find its owner, putting up local classified ads and posters. The cat has a microchip - and, according to it, his name is Michael; he’s 14 years old - but, sadly, the vet found his owner, who dumped him.
