Anselmus Boëtius de Boodt: Robin
[Erithacus rubecula] (1596 - 1610)

" … long ago when I still expected novelty to light my way home."

I sought out novelty before we were Exiled. After, I felt more attracted to Familiar things, to Familiars. Before, I'd considered myself adventurous when seeking some odd or unusual experience. I'd order the wild boar in the restaurant and seek out the Stearnwheeler supper cruise. I'd gather these experiences like some collect bracelet charms, believing myself especially blessed and a bit courageous. I once drove over an hour to find a trailer in the Arizona desert where a retired fireman from Poughkeepsie had set up shop selling rattlesnake rattles so I could return from that trip with unique gifts for my kids. I preferred to take the less-traveled roads and thought myself unique. That was before I was Exiled.

After being Exiled, I sought out Familiars, even the formerly banal ones. I would feel a flush of home when I entered a Safeway® store or a Starbucks®. When almost everything else seems alien, an old familiar friend seems especially reassuring, and I initially really needed those sorts of friends—my earliest Exiled days seemed as if I was under continual siege from precisely the same kind of novelty I used to seek. My dream had seemingly come true as a nightmare and I semi-desperately needed respite from it. I had long been rather compulsive about my decaf and my bread and searches for the best of those commodities occupied freshly prominent places in my consciousness. I was continually on the lookout for a better baker and a more reliable coffee roaster because almost nobody pays adequate attention to how they roast their decaf beans. Most serve dishwater decaf as if dispensing the deliberately flavor-free version of their signature product to morons. Finding someone who knew how to perform that small courtesy properly came to carry great significance for me.

I developed a route, if not precisely a routine. I'd visit my new reliables, my Familiars, when going on errands. They became my friends in a world almost entirely devoid of friendlies. I'd drive across the city to buy coffee at the one place I'd identified as my Familiar. I never disclosed their status to them. I probably seemed essentially invisible, at least as invisible as I felt pretty much everywhere I went except there; I felt as if I was visiting home for a minute. I'd linger and savor the flavors and sensations before trudging back out into being Exiled again. My Familiars were my Exile's godsends.

Slowly, formerly unfamiliars joined the ranks of my Familiars. The once-odd overcame their initial designation to become part of my budding family, for nobody can stay a stranger forever in any place they frequent. Regardless of how odd it seemed on my first visit, it might manage to insinuate itself into that most special place in my consciousness to become almost like family or, sometimes, actual family to me. After all, I inhabited a world devoid of family there. Family seemed to inhabit a past sense, a former tense, and aside from Sunday night phone calls, they were mostly notable for their absence. I began accumulating a fresh circle of acquaintances, most of whom were unknown to me other than by the reassurances they provided. I came to feel like family at that Italian Deli and the far away Whole Foods® Market I'd imprinted on shortly after being Exiled.

Home from Exile now, I feel surrounded by Familiars and I feel reassured. Most would doubtless feel bored and seek more novelty and difference, but I find satisfaction in the same old routines and lame excuses. Not one of our hometown supermarkets qualifies as even approaching a shadow of world-class, but I know which aisle holds my usuals, and I feel like I'm home there. I do not go there to buy a gallon of milk so much as I go there to really feel as though I'm home, and I seem to require almost continual reassurance of that fact since I came back.

Of course, I never returned from being Exiled, if only because nobody ever does. One might reacquaint oneself with a few old familiars, but they will each seem different after the influence of all the newer familiars acquired out there. My family expanded while we traveled. My relationship with home irrevocably shifted as a result of developing Familiars out there under considerable duress. I continue seeking reassurance, for if Exiles accomplish anything, they seem to succeed at leaving us feeling more insecure. Before being Exiled, I could take my Familiars for granted. I'd set them aside while wandering off unattended to collect some fresh novel experience. After being Exiled, my Familiars became incalculably more precious, never to be taken for granted again. I might still seek out some wild boar, not because it's novel but because I became Familiar with it long ago when I still expected novelty to light my way home.

©2024 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Exiled, #PureSchmaltz