My Little Kingdom

In his commencement address at Kenyon College in 2005, David Foster Wallace reportedly spoke of us being “lords of our tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the center of all creation.”  I won’t quote extensively here from an address that you can read for yourselves.  But I do think this one line is especially worth dwelling on for a moment.

                I’ve never been able to truly put myself into another person’s brain bucket, to imagine seeing the world from her perspective.  Maybe that’s why sympathy comes so much more easily to me than empathy. Am I alone in this?

                I know what it feels like to teach a class or to drive a car on the open road or to play a drum set decently or a guitar somewhat less decently, to focus through an asthma attack, hug my wife, sing that perfect note quite accidentally so my head rings, pet the dog, read a book, hang drywall.  But I can’t know how it would feel to be YOU teaching a class or driving a car, or, or, or… And therein lies the rub.

                My kingdom has come together decently at this point in my descent toward geezerdom. I have a number of really good, longtime friends and riches that have nothing to do with bank accounts. It’s so easy to become self-satisfied as my daughters move into their adult lives to a string of yeses and Mary and I talk about the things we’d like to do together when it’s only us and the dogs around the castle.  All of this is well and good and I look forward to the proverbial next phase of life.

                But still, I hope this next phase won’t be characterized primarily by self-satisfaction.  I’m hoping I can turn my gaze outward, learn a bit about life outside my little kingdom. I hope my old friends and new friends will read and reply and carry on with me a dialog that will help me view life through their eyes or at least, in parallax. I hope you won’t leave me alone here at the center of all creation.