Because most philosophies that frown on reproduction don't survive.

Thursday, September 09, 2010

This place, right now

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Yesterday I was driving in a part of Austin I've never visited, coming up 1st St. from the south. We crested a hill and the city lay before us, steel and glass framed by trees. And I was overwhelmed by a sense of place -- this city, right now, our city; this, our view.

Later we approached I-35 and were confronted with the choice: north to Waco, south to San Antonio, exit only. Once again we were oriented in space, and possibilities opened up. I was seized with a desire to drive to San Antonio in response to the invitation of the south-bound sign. But we turned left and headed resolutely north.


BettyDuffy said...

I've been having similar feelings lately. The MIdwest has had some gorgeous days, cool in the morning, breezy and warm in the afternoon, blue skies, Dali clouds, and a couple times, I've been struck with the awareness that I am here, this place, right now, as you say--and I really do love it.

Anonymous said...

Roy Clark wrote a song called "Right or Left at Oak Street" which pretty much describes this feeling, though his indecision was motivated by the desire to escape an unhappy home life.


The Opinionated Homeschooler said...

South First and its view of the city is part of Old Austin. Even the street, with its dips and rolls, reminds one of the days when the Austin landscape wasn't just bulldozed flat to put in roads and houses.

The other Old Austin view (if you have time) is towards the city from the top of the hill where they built Barton Creek Mall. The view was so famous that they even painted a reproduction of it inside the Mall, on the wall facing the city.

The view that always made me feel "home" the most, though, was the plane swooping in low over the city when landing at now-closed Mueller Airport (it was the swoopings over the city that led them to move the airport). First dry west Texas flatlands (I was always coming from Albuquerque), then treed Hill Country, then the slow circle in and the sudden dive over familiar buildings and freeways.

I hope y'all have enjoyed your time in this place that's been home for me--even when living temporarily elsewhere--for 35 years. Come back when you can.