Harold Edgerton: Milk Drop Coronet (c. 1936)

" … not nearly as alone in this world as we could have sworn we were sometimes."

Most of us live well-regulated lives. This renders us more predictable than we might be otherwise. There is no question about whether we imprinted on hunter-gatherer or farmer behavior. We're definitely farmers. We rise at just about the same time each morning. Through the day, we follow a schedule that defines our edges. We reliably show up for supper at the usual time. We even regulate our vacations, planning routes, stops, and experiences. We try to leave little to chance.

Hunter-gatherers, though, left much to chance. When they set out on a hunt, they made no advance reservations. They'd have to prepare for an array of conditions without knowing for certain which might most influence their quality of experience. They might not even know what they were hunting, relying upon fortunate convergence and possibility more than confident certainties. Their reward was that, usually, their overall workload was less than that of a farmer, who had to maintain his tamed wilderness within rather strict boundaries or risk losing his livelihood. The farmstead demanded dedication, while a dedicated hunter-gatherer might laze away more than half their days, since a single hunt's success might sustain them for several days or longer.

My childhood was less structured than my current lifestyle. Partly due to The Muse's schedule as a Port Commissioner, I ask each morning about her schedule, which will at least somewhat serve to regulate my day, too. She typically has a few meetings scheduled because she has become involved in numerous initiatives. She's engaged in conversations about water conservation, career creation, and coordinating between various government and private offices and functions. My days might be much less regulated, but I have a modest schedule to maintain, too, as well as a household within which I expect myself to contribute. I take my turns cooking supper, and I have my own work to see to. Our morning ritual attempts to coordinate our schedules so we know what to expect of each other. Who's doing the shopping, for instance, and which car will be available when?

We rarely find the opportunity to engage in some old-fashioned DroppingIn. In my youth, my family would often drop in on somebody, usually without calling ahead. It was considered perfectly acceptable behavior to stop by for a cup of coffee and to shoot some breeze, to gain a little reprieve from the day-to-day routine. One wouldn't stop too soon before any meal time and would depart, leaving ample time for meal preparation, but some idle time mid-morning or afternoon was recognized as necessary respite. My mom might drop in on her second cousin Verdeen, who was an able co-conspirator. We'd be left to play with her kids or find something to keep ourselves out from underfoot while they mediated some controversy or other.

Moderns don't seem to do that much DroppingIn. In my emerging world order, in my FollowingChapters, I hope to reintroduce DroppingIn as a more prominent portion of my lifestyle, even if I won't necessarily be able to put it on my schedule. DroppingIn seems roughly equivalent to Hunter-Gatherer behavior, hunting for connection and conversation in something other than a schedule's formal manner. DroppingIn begins with no agreed-upon agenda. One or the other might hold some burning issue, but neither expects to completely resolve any controversy. One does DroppingIn to engage in something more like dialogue than problem-solving. Its primary purpose tends to be reassurance that one's not nearly as alone in this world as we could have sworn we were sometimes.

©2025 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #FollowingChapters, #PureSchmaltz