Pierre Redouté: Morus rubra = Murier rouge. [Red Mulberry] (1801 - 1819)

"We couldn't help but TrackIn some of what we'd acquired … ."

The house I grew up in featured a Mulberry tree in the backyard. It grew over the clothesline, resulting in some interesting sheets reminiscent of Batik in season. Us kids would climb high to reach the ripe fruit, TrackingIn bright purple footprints across my mother's kitchen floor. Ever since then, I can't help but imagine myself TrackingIn whatever I've just been walking through. This time of year (late November), I notice my Muck shoes carrying smashed Dogwood berries in their treads. Last night, while The Muse and I were preparing supper, I noticed we were listening to The Big Broadcast, a Sunday night tradition broadcast on Washington, DC's NPR station, WAMU. This show replays radio dramas from the heydays, and it, along with Hot Jazz Saturday Night, became a habit when we were living in Exile in Takoma Park. We continued listening when we relocated our Exile to Colorado and still tune in sometimes now that we've returned home.

Nobody returns unchanged from any Exile. It might be that nobody ever returns from any Exile, or, at least, nobody the original Exile might readily recognize. We weren't held in suspension, but we continued growing despite the considerable efforts we expended to avoid getting poisoned by our close associations with aliens. Despite our best efforts, we adopted new habits and lost others. We were exposed to fresh sources and imprinted upon a few. Instead of the Walla Walla Union-Bulletin, we read the print edition of The Washington Post each morning in Takoma Park and The New York Times when we relocated to Colorado. Neither paper is available back home, though we retain electronic access. Our news reading habits shifted while we were Exiled and didn't spring back when we returned.

The supper we were cooking while listening to that radio show included stuff we'd TrackedIn from our Exile. The Muse was preparing a Ferro Risotto, an ancient dish we might have first experienced during Exile. Our spinach salad also included Fuju Persimmon, an unusual fruit we can't resist. I suspect we first encountered that while Exiled. The exotic vinegar with which The Muse dressed that salad might have also been TrackedIn from our Exile, where more variety existed than we'd ever encountered back home. I'd been continuing my experimenting with how to cook Chestnuts the evening before. Chestnuts were never an imperative before we were Exiled.

Our tastes in wine expanded when we were out there, where Walla Walla is considered a minor terroir. We discovered Flat Iron Steak, an under-appreciated, relatively cheap cut that our butcher in Washington, DC's Eastern Market first introduced to us. My understanding and appreciation of art and its history benefitted from my being able to drop into the National Gallery of Art on even the merest whim. I've continued my education by insisting upon posting an original artwork with each of my stories. I began that practice while Exiled. The back deck flower garden started as a necessary adaptation in Colorado, where the wildlife would eat any flowers not safely up on the deck in containers. Now, we can't imagine looking out the kitchen sliders without our eyes encountering a summer garden. Our Christmas Goose started coming to us while we were Exiled, creating a tradition we will probably continue until the end of our lives.

How I perceive myself shifted while I was Exiled. I fiercely defended my perspectives and lifestyle before I was Exiled. They seem hopelessly naive and juvenile to me today. I can't quite see how I could have been viable before I became exposed to the broader world. I understand that I've still seen only narrow slices of the variety that might have influenced me, so I have become more humble as a result of my travels. I more deeply despise the ignorant know-it-alls who seem to believe that their tours rendered them somehow omniscient and prescient. I returned convinced that I knew next to nothing about pretty much everything. If Exile broadens, it also certainly narrowed my certainty. We survived due to seemingly unlikely circumstances which, in a later analysis, seemed absolutely commonplace. We could only have known how resilient we'd become once we overcame some serious challenges. I like to believe we returned with more than we carried when we departed. We lost much in that excursion but perhaps acquired more than we lost. We couldn't help but TrackIn some of what we'd acquired there.

©2024 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Exiled, #PureSchmaltz