Building Intimacy with a Place

"Over time I have come to think of these three qualities -- paying intimate attention; a storied relationship to a place rather than a solely sensory awareness of it; and living in some sort of ethical unity with a place -- as a fundamental human defense against loneliness. If you're intimate with a place, a place with whose history you're familiar, and you establish an ethical conversation with it, the implication that follows is this: the place knows you're there. It feels you. You will not be forgotten, cut off, abandoned . . . The key, I think, is to become vulnerable to a place. If you open yourself up, you can build intimacy. Out of such intimacy may come a sense of belonging, a sense of not being isolated in the universe."

Barry Lopez

Photo courtesy of NyYankee

Dreaming of JJ Newberry's

A high school friend of mine recently posted on facebook a series of old postcards set to music of our hometown of Wellsville NY. The images brought back so many memories of the Place where we grew up: The Old Fassett Hotel, the big pool, The Texas Hot, the David A Howe Public Library, JJ Newberry's, and many other buildings and places now long gone.

I realized that many of these places still exist in my dreams. For instance, I often dream of JJ Newberry's, the five-and-dime store on Main Street that had toys in the basement, shiny floors, and delightful racks of clothes on sale. Let me rephrase that: I don't dream OF Newberry's, but for some odd reason the store appears in my dreams often -- the ching of the cash registers, the long aisles packed with merchandise, the sun coming through the front windows, the back door leading out to the street. I hadn't realized it was still in my dreams, until I saw the postcard, and became conscious that I'd been there countless times through the years though it closed over 30 years ago and that was impossible.

I commented on my friend's post that Newberry's still appeared in my dreams, and I clearly was not the only one. "Wellsville must be deep in my bones since almost every dream I have has bits of buildings, hills, and certain locations of Wellsville in it," another long-ago resident of my hometown replied back. Perhaps William Least Heat-Moon captures this odd geography of dreaming best when he wrote: "To know a place in any real and lasting way is sooner or later to dream it. That's how we come to belong to it in the deepest sense." Photo courtesy of ja harton

Home Is Like a Delicious Piece of Pie

"One's home is like a delicious piece of pie you order in a restaurant on a country road one cozy evening -- the best piece of pie you have ever eaten in your life -- and can never find again. After you leave home, you may find yourself feeling homesick, even if you have a new home that has nicer wallpaper and a more efficient dishwasher than the home in which you grew up."
Lemony Snicket

Sorrento: Beautiful Way to Experience Seattle

My trip to Seattle last week turned out to be a wonderful experience, though most of my business trips are a blur of No Place. Rather than staying in a Holiday Inn Express or some other franchised hotel that is convenient, efficient, and new, I decided to stay in the Sorrento Hotel, a 100-year-old relic of Seattle's past located in the City's center. And that made all the difference.

Typically after a busy day on the road, I come back to my room and plop down in front of the TV in a room that could be anywhere. But not at the Sorrento. I spent an hour walking on friendly streets and poking around in shops just before dinner. And upon my return, the fireside lounge, full of mahogany wood, art, brocade, and soft conversation, drew me like a moth to flame, and I spent two enjoyable hours sitting by the fireplace soaking up the atmosphere of the place. When the server cleared away my dinner dishes, I asked her what was a special drink from Seattle that I should try. "An apple martini," she told me, "that tastes just like Washington apples." She didn't have to twist my arm, and I felt like I was on vacation for the evening, rather than just passing through a faceless city.

I've generally thought of business travel as something to get through, but I rediscovered that by choosing the right place to stay, somewhere that reflects the character of the city and is centrally located, I can choose to have a unique, memorable experience that stays with me upon my return. Sure beats the typical business trip blur.

Airport Creates Brilliant Gateway to America

Last night I had to catch a connecting flight in Detroit and was blown away by what I discovered. Walking from Terminal B to Terminal A, I began hearing nature sounds -- crickets and water tinkling. And then I rounded a corner and suddenly encountered a brilliant tunnel of light and music that made me beam with delight though it was late and I was exhausted.

Like the other travelers, I suddenly slowed down to admire the artistic light show underscored by classical music and the sound of water. Rather than pounding along on the people conveyer belt like I'm known to do, I strolled along through the tunnel, not in any hurry to leave. Many others around me did the same, particularly the Asian business men just in front of me. Like me, their eyes were bright and they were smiling.

As a key gateway into America from Asia, this brilliant light tunnel is ingenious in shaping perception of our country and letting travelers known that they're arrived in an amazing Place. And it certainly changed my perceptions of Detroit's decrepitness into one of beauty and new beginnings.

Driving As Amnesia

I've often thought that our obsession with the automobile has been one of the major contributors to our creation of meaningless places. When I drive, separated from the surrounding landscape by glass, fan whir and stereo blast, I feel strangely disconnected. Jean Baudrillard, author of America, captures this feeling of disconnection more precisely: "Driving is a spectacular form of amnesia. Everything is to be discovered, everything to be obliterated." And it's so true. When I drive on America's endless highways, I don't remember anything along the way, not just because much of it looks alike but because I'm not physically connected to it -- driving is primarily a way to pass through quickly to get from one point to another without a lot of hassle or disturbance. I could just as well be in California or Florida as Virginia. It's amazing how often I forget to roll down the window, open the sunroof or just turn off the radio so I can hear the wind. Photo courtesy of Photodu.de's

The Most Important Thing to Teach Children

"The most important thing to teach your children is that the sun does not rise and set. It is the earth that revolves around the sun. Then teach them the concepts of North, South, East, and West, and that they relate to where they happen to be on the planet's surface at that time. Everything else will follow." Buckminster Fuller
Photo courtesy of Lea and Luna