YOU CAN'T GO HOME AGAIN

Thomas Wolfe’s novel, “You Can’t Go Home Again” was written in 1940 and over time the line has become a catch phrase that translates, ‘There is no way to recapture the essence of a previous life and attempts to relive those fond memories will always fail.’ The best you can do is reflect. I went reflecting the other day, gone to a class reunion. Forty years ago I was a teacher and coach at Mendon High School, Mendon, Michigan. They invited me back for their 40-year reunion. 

From the formal dinner through the late night bonfire, Wolfe’s insight proved out. Life and times of 1976 were narrow and confining. Indulging in reflection is one thing and that was nice but with or without permission, life either carries you forward or leaves you behind. The football team that year was a good one and we talked about details from games long removed. There was lots of grandparent talk and everyone was very kind to me. After dark, the barrel began to fill up with beer bottles and man-talk turned from crazy days and foolish pranks to politics and observations about rural-conservative morality. 

I expected that would happen and my plan was to keep my mouth shut. There was absolutely no reason to push back against what they perceived as self evident, so normal, so correct. Still, you can reach a point where you have to be honest or walk away and these were friendly folk with a shared history. One man made an observation, “We’re all Republicans here but . . .” I had to butt in; “You can’t say that, you don’t know that.” I went on to say I avoid labels but I don’t vote for Republicans. I told him that the best Democrat is just as good as the best Republican but then, that wasn’t saying much. It softened the spell and everybody laughed. I realized they had never heard of Noam Chomsky so I didn’t take them there. It slowed the ranting down but still, government over-reach was too tempting for them to resist. 

I had already said too much, they were waiting to hear my 2-cents. But I thought about what I would have shared. Louisiana is the most conservative state in the nation. In Baton Rouge, all the talk is about government over-reach and the moral obligation to be responsible. If you think you need a helping hand, you must be guilty of poor decisions or you’re just lazy. That was until last week when Baton Rouge got over 2 feet of rain in two days. Over 60,000 homes were flooded in East Baton Rouge Parish alone. Now those good, conservative, high minded moralists are upset, wanting to know when the government is going to act. Only 12% of flooded residents had flood insurance; they were above the line where it was mandatory so they used the money to buy a fishing boat or remodel the kitchen. Poor decision? I’m no judge, not my call. They are industrious, courageous people, working as hard and as well as they can to recover but they can’t do it alone. Where is the government? What is Washington going to do, and when?  It would seem the morality of entitlement depends on the direction of cash flow. If you can manage, so should everyone else. Popular rhetoric scorns entitlement programs, they make lazy people dependent on government handouts. But fate is fickle. When it turns and it’s their tit in the wringer, they don’t call it entitlement, it becomes high minded and moral after all, they work hard and smart. It’s an act of God, not their fault. I agree they need and deserve the help but it’s hypocritical at best to think they can have it both ways. Entitlement bigots believe, if you have more than you need, it qualifies you to judge those who do not.  I didn’t take them there, like trying to explain mercy to a psychopath; piss in the wind. The talk turned to pontoon fishing boats and cheese cake. No, you can’t go home again but from my experience that little, rural, garden of Eden was never my ‘Home’.  When I think of home I prefer Carl Sagan’s “. . . mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam.”