An American Somebody

An American Somebody

By: David Van Rossum

    This fall is different somehow. When you ask a New Englander what their favorite time of year is, you shouldn’t be surprised that autumn is an oft received answer. The weather is generally suited for outdoor activities and the home provides a comfort at night. The foliage is spectacular and the combination of football, hockey, basketball, field hockey, and golf is hard to beat for an active sports fan or a doting grandparent watching youth programs. Halloween announces the coming of the Thanksgiving season with the joy of beaming small faces dressed to scare or impress at your door, lighting up the darkness that begins to encroach on our days. Thanksgiving gatherings, though sometimes filled with family strife, end with the beginning of the colorful season of Christmas where the newly bared landscape comes alive with bright reds, greens, silver and bright whites that the holiday brings through natural and artificial sources. Tourists are confined to weekends and the snowbirds haven’t begun their migration to their homes in Ft. Meyers or Daytona or Phoenix. The community is alive with those that call here home. But this fall is different.

     The news of this fall isn’t good. The economy isn’t providing job growth. Worldwide unrest and revolution seems so much closer now than it did when I was a kid. The political campaigns are filled with finger pointing and outlandish criticism from those brave enough to enter the fray and those who get paid to tell us what we should be able to discern for ourselves. The tragedy of the goings on at Penn State rock our faith not only in what was once a Rockwell portrait of a college town bound together by the love of the school, the Nittany Lions and Joe Paterno, but  also in the makeup of our day to day population. The dreamer and the cynic are both dead. Apple will survive, but network TV as we know it may be dying as well. Wall Street is occupied because some have and many don’t, but are the demise of capitalism and the redistribution of wealth going to make things better? I want my children and their children to keep the incentive to succeed in a free market that we have enjoyed for generations. We are closer to each other thanks to social media, but in many ways we are further apart. We don’t need to see each other. That is a shame.

     I have walked the beach here on the coast of New Hampshire more times than I can count. Generally I walk down the road to the beach access, then south toward Jenness Beach, stopping for coffee at Rye General or the Sandpiper during the months they are open. Sometimes my wife and I walk together, sometimes we have a dog or two with us, and sometimes I walk alone. It is rare that I don’t run into a friend or acquaintance along the way or at the store. The number of people along the way change with the seasons but the surfers are always there, seemingly in increasing populations. The fall is a wonderful time for these walks. This is when almost everyone you encounter is home. This fall has not changed in that regard but still it is different.

     A lack of a lucky streak is unsettling to me. I am out of work and have been for a long time. Trying hard to put on a brave face and search the internet and personal connections for a position where I know I can contribute and can sustain my family is a daily ritual. The years of good living that we have enjoyed due to past hard work has deteriorated into the uncertainty of how to heat the too big house that has been for sale for three years, now priced at 75% of the tax assessed value. I worry about food prices. It is wearing on me that the head start I was able to give my children versus what I was able to get from my hard-working parents has come to an end. Though this is a different perspective for me, it is not what sets this particular season apart for me.   
                                   
     Lately my walks have changed. I see the tracks of bare feet and shoes and wonder who they belong to. I appreciate the fact that I live in a beautiful place. I have the same number of dreams but their duration is shorter. I don’t know if that is because of age, circumstance or the strangeness that has abounded the past couple of months. Not Stephen King scary strange, but eerie nonetheless.

     A few weeks ago I walked down the beach among groups of small shore birds. I am no expert on wildlife. They were birds I have seen many times scuttling toward the shallow waves and retreating at a quicker pace. Sandpipers maybe. I know we have plover in the area. This particular morning their behavior was changed. As I walked, a group of these busy birds skittered around me. This circle moved with me for many yards, then fell back. Shortly I met another group and they too circled my path for another distance. Never before and not since have I experienced this peculiar procession. I imagined, perhaps foolishly, that they were forming some sort of protection against the unknown or they were looking for the same from me. Days later my wife and I were walking the sands and came across many dead seagulls and the washed-up carcasses of baby seals. This phenomenon persisted for days up and down the New England coast. Scientists investigated, but no answers have been found as of this writing. The Halloween that we look forward to never really happened. A storm blitzed the region with a wet snow that knocked power out for days and caused many communities to postpone trick-or-treat night to early November. I’m not even sure when it was held in my town. Then warm weather arrived, livening-up the coast in a way that seemed unnatural. The moon shone bright as the days shortened. Our dogs were reluctant to stay outside for long. Fall was different somehow.

     Yesterday morning I walked home along the beach with a mild wind at my back. Coffee in hand I strolled with no purpose as I gazed at the few surfers that were out in relatively calm waters. People were walking their dogs as usual, but not as many as I would have expected on this sunny day. I saw no one I knew. I noticed large shells along the way and tried to recall if this was normal. My mind was full of worry as I contemplated the job search that I would continue upon my arrival to my study. I paused per usual at the water end of the short beach access road that would take me to Old Beach Road. I was studying the motion of the small waves when I noticed some activity to my right. A woman had come out of her very nice house that abutted the sand. She began to lower our flag from the pole that rose from her patio. Recalling some deep seated protocol I turned toward the descending flag, removed my ball cap and stood as much at attention as I know how. While I was performing this show of respect for the emblem of our great country, I realized that my actions were meant to be noticed by this stranger of a lady who had no idea I was even there. I was doing it for the acknowledgement of doing the right thing not for truly heartfelt pure patriotism. Maybe I needed that reinforcement, but I was ashamed of myself. I paused a moment more then started up the access road, thinking about what the flag represents to me. I can’t say my heart grew ten times bigger like the Grinch, but I know that my reflections brought me back to what was fundamentally important.  Of all the events and sights that were seemingly foreign to me this season, the ideals that should never wane in importance were the same as when I was first aware of them.  Life, Family, Community and Country. I am blessed to be a part of all of them, and it is my duty to protect and try to make better those basic elements that make up my being. I hope I can.

     Thanksgiving looms in just a few days. I now know what to be thankful for. This fall feels different somehow.