THE STATE OF WAYNE

Am I one of the luckiest people ever to have lived? It sure seems that way.

For starters, what better time in all of human existence to be alive? We have Google! Entire supermarket aisles dedicated just to breakfast cereal. An app on my iPhone listens, and then identifies any bird song. We can get in our cars and drive anywhere our hearts desire, while an onboard robot gives us directions.

And personally, I hit the cosmic jackpot: American, white, male. Intelligent. Healthy. Here I am, nearly 78 years old, and still going strong. Supported by a brilliant, beautiful woman, my wife and best friend for 33 years, who is hitting the apex of her career, providing us with a life of ease. We’ve a beautiful house and awesome flower gardens. Family and friends are nearby, or connected via Facebook.

That’s why, most every day, I ask myself, “Wayne, how did you get so fucking lucky?” Of all the humans ever to have lived, for countless generations over millions of years, why me? Why here? Why now? Why am I who I am, where I am, when I am?

Every one of the billions of past souls, each of our forgotten ancestors, had a story, their brief moment on Earth, with all the hopes and dreams, loves and losses, that all of us experience. And now, this is my moment.

Compared with any previous generation, anywhere, mine is blessed beyond measure. Absent are the past’s (and, still, much of the rest of the world’s) plagues, fleas and lice, appalling hygiene, endless warfare, mysterious diseases, hunger, all manner of bigotry, and widespread slavery.

…Worst of all, continual fear and danger of violent death; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short. (Thomas Hobbes, 1651)

Having spent my career in service of Mother Earth, I consider this a special era of history, and count my time in it as a privilege. Humankind’s worst, sordid ravages of Nature (so far) are in our past. Healing is underway – in less polluted rivers, cleaner air, better land and forest management, wildlife conservation. Environmental stewardship is a real thing. I can enjoy protected wilderness, wildlife refuges, and parks all over the country.

I’m painfully aware that bad change is coming to our environmental idyll. I’ll not live to see the modern carnage humans are visiting on Earth; the worst of the looming crises from climate change will be for other generations to suffer. My grandkids will grow old in a far different world, a place we can’t even imagine.

And who can say what the lunacy of our fractured politics will morph into. At least there’s this silver lining: Cheeto Benito has produced the most entertaining political theater since Watergate. As much as I hate it, I love it.

It’s a great time to be alive. I still can enjoy Earth’s staggering biodiversity – bees, bristlecone pines, polar bears, and 10,000 kinds of birds. I can drive my carbon-spewing SUV, like there’s no tomorrow. I can fill my life with toys and stuff from all over the world: organic berries from Peru, wine from Australia, salmon from Alaska. I bought two galvanized steel fence posts at Home Depot the other day, that were made in Vietnam!

Speaking of… For my generation, the Vietnam War was the apocalyptic crisis of youth. I managed (literally) to dodge it. Not like guys just like me, then, and in every other generation, who lived, suffered, were maimed, and died in world wars, civil wars, colonial wars, genocidal wars. It’s the tragedy of humankind that continues this very minute, in other places. Yet here I am, somehow having avoided it. Was that just dumb luck?

Much, if not most, of our so-called “luck” in life is simple genetics. Smart or dumb,  tall or short, hairy or bald (or both), white or red – nothing we can control. But do genetics dictate everything, all the daily decisions that we make? Regular exercise? Who we marry? Flossing? Diet? Going along with immoral wars? How much do we make our own “luck” in life?

All I can say is that I must have done something right. It got me here, and that’s a damned good place.

Perhaps this paean to the state of Wayne sounds smug and egoistic. The SNL Church Lady keeps echoing in my brain: “Well isn’t that special?!?” But my life is special. I look around and realize that, while every person is special in their own way, most aren’t so lucky as me. A trip to Walmart always dispels any doubt.

Nevertheless, is my self-satisfaction merely an illusion? Perhaps my grandkids will look back, when they’re old like me, and believe their time on Earth was the best ever. That their Papa was way too short-sighted, ignorant, and provincial. I hope so. Is it possible they’ll find that future advances in science and medicine to be worth the ecological catastrophe they’ll inherit? Will AI and technology save them? Is it possible that the Earth will be a better place in the future? After all, who, a generation ago, could have predicted Amazon and TikTok?

But this is my happy story and I’m sticking with it. I’m blessed with a wonderful family, and a kitty who just lives for love. I can still do the outdoorsy things I love – walking, biking, gardening, Grand Canyon rafting, fishing, photography – and enjoy Oregon’s extraordinary wine and weed. And as if all that wasn’t enough, I’m married to the finest chef and epicure I’ve ever known.

Being old and retired gives me appropriate perspective to appreciate such good fortune. I’m living in the place I searched and strove for my entire life, and now am savoring every moment. At this age, mortality is a constant companion. For as Robert Frost wrote: “Nothing gold can last.” But that will be a story for another day.

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