There’s no place like home

The “new normal” is really old hat. It’s been the human story since the earliest times when the adventures of daily life were etched on cave walls as if to say “here we are, your ancestors.”

While we are besieged with stories showing us to be technologically advanced, the fact is that we are not all that removed from our ancestors who lived in tribes and just tried to survive each day. The big difference is we have turned our spears into weapons of mass destruction capable of wiping us out, and our attempts to live within nature to our current efforts to destroy the whole planet.

I, for one, am happy to live simply so that others may simply live and to adopt a lifestyle that is more in touch with my natural surroundings. I would even give up my cyberspace communication resources for a phone call or sit-down at a local cafe to share coffee and stories with friends. Give me a good book rather than reruns of old movies on television.

I used to write books about great ideas which no one read except students required to read them or other scholars checking footnotes in my books to make sure they were correct. These days I am writing more poetry and working on a book about Mr. Tux, our black and white cat, who found a home with us after a few years spent wandering outside.

Actually, as I think about Mr. Tux I understand that his homecoming is a wish I have for all of us. As the brief description of his story notes on the cover, his is a “universal tale of being lost and found and what he learned along the way.” That’s my story, too, over the last few years, feeling lost and found.

The truths I have discovered in our tough times and after months of quarantine are simple ones I should have known earlier, but like most human beings I learn from my struggles and defeats more than my self-satisfied and flimsy victories.

I have learned like Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz” that there’s no place like home. I mean that symbolically and literally. “Home” is the calm place within myself where I can find peace and quiet, and the others meaning home within my physical place of residence where I can have a cup of tea and read a good book.

I’ve also learned that I can survive the onslaught of lies and distortions and halftruths and seek a few good truths that last more than a news cycle. After all, the good news is news that lasts beyond a headline. Good news is about the old stories of family to love and friends to speak with, about the changing seasons and a sunlit day to sit outside for a few moments to watch the clouds and listen to the birds.

I know there will be days when I cannot avoid hearing about wars and rumors of wars, political intrigues, and stock market declines. But today, I am quietly relieved and thankful to see the sifting clouds overhead, hear the birds at the feeder, and be thankful for the day itself.

While we are besieged with stories showing us to be technologically advanced, the fact is that we are not all that removed from our ancestors who lived in tribes and just tried to survive each day.