love it. i hate google maps. i collect road maps -- you know the ones you can never fold back properly -- whenever I can. and, well, i do stop and ask directions. it often leads to a funny or interesting exchange.
my favorite asking-directions story didn't involve me, though. it was in Maine. And I was standing at the edge of a friend's driveway, chatting. It was a Saturday morning. And someone from NJ screeched to a halt and said, "How do I get to..." in a kind of demanding, unfriendly tone. The man I was with spoke. He told the NJ man to stay on the road for 10 miles or so, take a left on Rte. 25, go 5 miles and take a left on such and such a road, go about 7 miles and then take a left on such and such a road, go two miles and you'll find it.
The NJ man squealed out and headed down the road.
'Why,' I asked, did you just send someone 25 miles out of the way. They could have just gone up a mile or so, banged a left, gone two miles and they'd be there.'
'Didn't like the way he asked,' was the reply from the man, smiling.
my partner and I still have an existential debate over the value of unfoldable maps vs a talking app. I have a good sense of direction (ie, where the heck is North?) she doesn't; I need a visual orientation to know where the heck I am going. She loves to track our progress in the talking app; more than once I've been sent around in circles because the talking app doesn't always connect properly in rural areas.
I sometimes joke that I have an invisible sign above my head that says "I know where and I am happy to help you out." I have been asked for directions all over the world from backroads in California to Manhattan to Dublin, Ireland and even in Tokyo. Most often this has happened when I am biking and someone pulls up next to me (always unnerving) and then asks for directions to either a hyper specific local destination (assuming incorrectly that I am not dozens of miles from home) or a city scores of miles away that demonstrate that they are incredibly lost.
I still have a stack of maps many of which have been refolded correctly :), but for the most part rely on app navigation now. Nevertheless, there is something magical about getting lost or tracking yourself on a physical map.
As a youth my brothers and I, upon returning home in the evening, would stand at the property line and pee into the adjacent orange grove. I suppose that is the country club Republican equivalent of peeing behind a tree. Why return water to man-made systems to be filtered purified, and sent on into a river? It made more sense to simply return it to the wild, which of course was not actually wild, but a man-made construct. The orange grove is now houses, but the wilderness of your youth is still wilderness. Random thoughts on permanence and perspective, thank you for a wonderful article!
love it. i hate google maps. i collect road maps -- you know the ones you can never fold back properly -- whenever I can. and, well, i do stop and ask directions. it often leads to a funny or interesting exchange.
my favorite asking-directions story didn't involve me, though. it was in Maine. And I was standing at the edge of a friend's driveway, chatting. It was a Saturday morning. And someone from NJ screeched to a halt and said, "How do I get to..." in a kind of demanding, unfriendly tone. The man I was with spoke. He told the NJ man to stay on the road for 10 miles or so, take a left on Rte. 25, go 5 miles and take a left on such and such a road, go about 7 miles and then take a left on such and such a road, go two miles and you'll find it.
The NJ man squealed out and headed down the road.
'Why,' I asked, did you just send someone 25 miles out of the way. They could have just gone up a mile or so, banged a left, gone two miles and they'd be there.'
'Didn't like the way he asked,' was the reply from the man, smiling.
Ha! Fabulous story. Manners open doors :) Also, I've never folded a map properly in my life, but stopped using them ages ago!
my partner and I still have an existential debate over the value of unfoldable maps vs a talking app. I have a good sense of direction (ie, where the heck is North?) she doesn't; I need a visual orientation to know where the heck I am going. She loves to track our progress in the talking app; more than once I've been sent around in circles because the talking app doesn't always connect properly in rural areas.
ahh the rigors of progress.
hahaha, I'm on your side on this one, no disrespect to her or anyone who loves apps!
I love this story too.
I sometimes joke that I have an invisible sign above my head that says "I know where and I am happy to help you out." I have been asked for directions all over the world from backroads in California to Manhattan to Dublin, Ireland and even in Tokyo. Most often this has happened when I am biking and someone pulls up next to me (always unnerving) and then asks for directions to either a hyper specific local destination (assuming incorrectly that I am not dozens of miles from home) or a city scores of miles away that demonstrate that they are incredibly lost.
I still have a stack of maps many of which have been refolded correctly :), but for the most part rely on app navigation now. Nevertheless, there is something magical about getting lost or tracking yourself on a physical map.
I used to blame her for the ways I twisted myself.
It's hard to stop blaming ourselves.
"This is the quiet work of healing, not erasing the selves we were, but loving them enough to stop running.
Loving them enough to say, I see why you did it that way."
This brought a sudden lump to my throat. The things I did to survive...
Love, teenage me, love.
Love to teenage Deb, so much ❤️
As a youth my brothers and I, upon returning home in the evening, would stand at the property line and pee into the adjacent orange grove. I suppose that is the country club Republican equivalent of peeing behind a tree. Why return water to man-made systems to be filtered purified, and sent on into a river? It made more sense to simply return it to the wild, which of course was not actually wild, but a man-made construct. The orange grove is now houses, but the wilderness of your youth is still wilderness. Random thoughts on permanence and perspective, thank you for a wonderful article!
I love this image of you and your brothers, of your private resistance, of the ways you've been wild from the beginning. Thank you for sharing!!!
Excited about the next Artist’s Way.