My foreign adventures these days are consigned to real estate showings in far-flung places like Cohoes, Amsterdam or Niskayuna, outposts here in what we call New York State’s Capital District.
On top of suddenly having a whirlwind of business so far this year, Diane and are largely sequestered at our 3-acre property in Greenfield Center. It’s a place we dubbed Goose Hollow Manor, adding some gravitas to the semi-unplanned decision to buy a home in the country. Now we’re playing at “gentlewomen farmers,” raising two puppies (WHY?!) and cohabitating with 24-year-old daughter who has moved back home.
Yet here we sit in what we believe is a tranquil palette and manageable life base, while Anjali is wondering like any 24-year-old in search of action would why — after living in places like Seattle, Baltimore and New York and traveling all over the U.S. and the world — did we choose to land here in boring old upstate New York?
I’ll tell you why. Saratoga Springs had always seemed like a little geographical beacon of peace and quiet throughout our life’s adventures. This little enclave three hours north of New York City is small, but enriched with enough arts, parks, food, colleges and at least seven months of stellar weather.
And now that we’re old(er) and a little less peppy and unwilling to make a lot of logistical mischief we used to thrive on, we found ourselves surprisingly desirous of embracing a life less hectic and less expensive, especially after decades of travel, big cross-country moves, job changes and general hijinx.
What I have found, with startling clarity, is that hardly anyone else feels the same way! I mean, what the heck is happening on my social media feeds? Our friends are EVERYWHERE!
They’re in Sicily. They’re in Brussels. They’re in Athens. They’re in Hamburg. They’re in Thailand. They’re in Big Sur. They’re in Mexico City. They’re riding the Great Allegheny Passage from Maryland to Pittsburgh on the kind of biking adventure we used to make happen. They’re trekking across Joshua Tree, or packing for white water rafting trips to Colorado.
It’s an absolute explosion of color and sights and UNESCO World Heritage Sites on Instagram!
As I write this, I have a suspicion that people might think I am jealous. Or I am sad. Or that I have a lot of work to do confronting the inner mule in me that seems deeply plugged into one of the smallest orbits I have ever operated in., making short car rides from our beautiful home to exotic places like … Schenectady. WTAF?
But I don’t feel jealous. I am not sad. I don’t feel I am missing anything.
I don’t have any pangs of FOMO. I don’t want to call up the Delta app and book a flight to London or Bankok or Morocco.
I don’t feel anything except passing gratitude as I scroll through the photos posted by my friends and social media buddies. There’s the shimmering Ionian Sea; the mighty remains of ancient Rome; Irish castles; the low clouds over Brugge where the work of the Great Masters are on display in achingly inviting museums. There are pictures of Paris at dusk, Athens in the morning, the tile streets of Lisbon.
And while I appreciate the voyeuristic view, I feel complete having been all these places: Madrid, Yucatan, Tokyo, New Delhi, Barcelona, Arles, London, Sedona, San Francisco, Miami, Chattanooga, Portlands Maine & Oregon, Pittsburgh, Seattle, Tucson, El Paso …
I have seen them all! And more. An entire life of travel and movement and learning and planes and restaurants and car rentals and hotels and Airbnbs and trains and museums and sporting events and concerts and … everything everywhere all the time!
I have no sense of missing out, I have a deep sense of a life that ate up the world, and it brings me an incredible amount of satisfaction and comfort. It also brings me joy to relive the memories, and especially to see people out and about having those sorts of high-flying adventures that come with living like the world is your oyster.
That’s what I felt when I happened upon a YouTube video of the supergroup called Boygenius, which is the trio of young women artists Phoebe Bridgers, Lucy Dacus and Julien Baker. You don’t have to know anything about them or their music or their sheer brilliance at their play on gender and power and business and sexuality and their individual gifts amplified by working together.
Their world tour produced a video made up of dozens of clips of them goofing around and playing music in various cities in Europe and America — laughing and sight-seeing and eating the world in way that maybe young and brave people can do.
It made me remember myself at their ages — having the gift of travel and jobs that let me see America and the world. And it was so delightful to know that kind of energy and creativity and ambition was so strikingly alive! Good for them! The kids are out there re-making music and art and re-interpreting how humans are supposed to keep going in a world gone kind of mad.
For me? It did not re-ignite a desire to book a flight somewhere exotic. In fact, my biggest trip this week was to Marshalls. I needed a new water bowl for one of the puppies — the 10-month-old Mauxie and six-month-old Bernadoodle that we decided to bed down here at Goose Hollow and further make our lives less far flung.
What is wrong with me? I know I should ask this, given my decided lack of ambition to travel. But I don’t know if there’s anything wrong. I have a wonderful spouse and beautiful home and a lot of books and friends and places to walk and bike.
So when I was at Marshalls, I did what all other great American consumers did. I wandered over to the HomeGoods section of the double-barreled store. It was there I found two huge rust-colored pillows. They were not filled with down. They matched the tea-stained carpet that adorns our living room floor. Perfect.
I thought about our couch pillows that had grown flat and worn. I thought about how the couches needed a little help, and how much at the end of the day we liked to sit and read, or watch the Mets, or talk about how cute the dogs are, or talk about how boring we’ve become, being content and not restless and not envious towards all those folks out there eating the world.
So I bought the pillows, which are way too big but are totally comfortable. It’s making our trips to the living room a whole new adventure, especially as the rain continues to make this upstate New York spring wet and cool. The grass and trees are finally verdant. Things are coming alive, but without any drama, just quietly moving into a new season.
You've been everywhere, man.
The field at Ancient Olympus...site of 2004 shot-put competition.
The bar in Almost Heaven, West Nagano, where patrons were still talking about the American reporter who performed Michael Jackson. Olympics 1998.
And the pressbox in Fenway where you smacked a solid roll of NECCO wafers on a fellow reporter's desk and shouted, "POP!!!"
Rest up. You've found your next calling,
More NECCO wafers.
GV
Living in Hokkaido, we don't feel the need to go anywhere these days. Last December we had to go to Tokyo to have some documents notarized at the US Embassy. That was enough. Tokyo is intense. I went to Rishiri Island in February to ski, but that's just off the coast of Hokkaido. I don't need to go any farther than that and I'm happy to stay at home in our little "mansion" --mansion means condo in Japan--with my spouse and our complete absence of pets. This is our forever home for as long as we can take care of ourselves.