The Story
For much of my young adult life, I wanted to escape from my hometown of Poughkeepsie, New York. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with Poughkeepsie (aside from the fact that no one can spell its name properly). It was just where I grew up, and therefore I wanted to leave it.
But then I fell in love, and my future husband happened to be from the same county as Poughkeepsie; we just hadn’t met until we were in college, six hours north, in Potsdam. When it came time to look for teaching jobs, it was easier for us to get interviews in the area of the state where we already had connections. I also fell in love with his family, and the idea of raising kids near all the grandparents was appealing. So, despite my initial desire to leave, I settled back into my hometown, working in the very same school district from which I’d graduated.
It took a long time before I began to love the area on its own merits, but I do now! Poughkeepsie has beautiful rail trails, botanical gardens and mountains; busy entertainment areas and quaint neighboring towns; and, thanks to the C.I.A. (that’s the Culinary Institute— in Hyde Park) one of the best food scenes outside of New York City. Which is only two hours away by train!
But the best thing about living in my hometown as an adult is the way it shapes my perspective. Rooting myself in space has had the effect of allowing me to mentally travel through time on a regular basis. When I visit places like the Vassar College campus, or Adriance library, or even the Galleria mall, my mind can wrap itself around three times at once: past, present, and (though it’s less certain) future.
Take Vassar College, for example. I have childhood memories of going there with my dad for picnics. We had a certain long, three-sided bench under a willow tree that we liked. After we ate, I’d hop from square to square, then jump off and start again. Later, I took my eighteen-month-old son to that same place after Music Together class. I’d eat my lunch and feed him his, and we’d both enjoy the flowers from the new memorial garden. Later still, we took walks there during the pandemic as a way to see the grandparents in a socially-distanced way. And, though I can’t see the future, I know enough about myself to believe that Vassar will always be a special place to me. I can see myself taking walks by myself or with a friend, listening to podcasts, bundled up against the breeze.
This kind of past-present-future amalgamation is just as possible for people who don’t live in the same town all their lives. Don’t we all crave it? Isn’t it why we often go to the same vacation spots, year after year— so that we can mark time passing in a deeper, more rooted way?
Objects also help us time travel. When I hold something that belonged to my grandparents, I can almost feel the warmth of their fingers holding it, too. I can imagine passing the same artifact on to my children. I am holding the past, present and future in my hand, heart and mind, all at once.
Our brains can operate in three different states of time around a single event: anticipatory brain; mindfully present brain; and remembering brain. For example: my family’s upcoming Alaskan Disney cruise. I’m already getting the benefit of it, even though it hasn’t yet happened, because of my anticipatory brain. Whenever I make plans for an excursion, or watch a video of the ship, or talk about it with my family, I’m using my anticipatory brain to explore the excitement of the future. Once I get there, I’ll be using my mindfully present brain to soak all the joy out of the experience. And when I get home, I’ll be looking at pictures and journal entries that will remind me of an incredible vacation.
Balancing the past, present and future is of high value to me. It’s why I keep both a journal for reflection and a planner for intention. It’s easy for me to slip into happy memories of the past, or grow excited about future plans. The element of the trio that’s hardest for me is staying in the present! I work on this through meditation, exercise, and staying tuned to my five senses.
This time-traveling balancing act is important for countries and communities, too. We must know our shared history to understand our place in the grand scheme of societal motion. We must be aware of shared cultural moments and touch points so that we can be clear-eyed about what is needed right now. And we must always, always build for a better future.
Also In This Series…
Today’s post is the second in Good Character’s series on VALUES. In case you missed it, the first post featured my favorite Muppet— Beaker— and explored the balance of “Me” vs. “We.” Next week, I’ll be exploring the value of living intentionally.
Stuff You Might Like To Know
I’m reading BEFORE AND AFTER THE BOOK DEAL by Courtney Maum and REVENGE OF THE TIPPING POINT by Malcolm Gladwell. In fiction, I highly recommend FLORENCE ADLER SWIMS FOREVER by Rachel Beanland; I just finished it, and it was excellent.
I’m listening to my son practice jazz trumpet, and nothing makes me happier than hearing him play when he doesn’t think anyone is paying attention. (How could I not?)
Thank you all for reading.
Keep hoping. Keep caring. Keep trying.