Compensations for Lack of Travel

When a person does not travel much one must come up with other ways to entertain, stimulate, distract, learn, and enjoy life. 

For some it's food and cooking. These never had much appeal to me since I have no sense of smell and have an underdeveloped sense of taste. Therefore one of my compensations for lack of travel is collecting mouth feels. I can't judge food for its flavor so I judge it by its stringiness, density, bounce, creep, breaking point, crunchiness, chewiness, gumminess, lumpiness, rubberiness, springiness, slipperiness, smoothness, softness, wetness, juiciness, spreadability, spring back, and tackiness. I can't wait to experience the texture of food in Manhattan.

For others it's sports and exercise. These never had much appeal to me since I suffer from innumeracy. I don't have a head for numbers and my introduction to baseball was a neighbor kid who tried and failed to teach me a baseball statistics game called Strat-O-Matic. I also suffer from a deplorable lack of coordination. I was a dismal failure in pee-wee baseball, PE in school, and anything that required exertion. My hobbies were sedentary and cerebral. I can't wait to stand in silent reverence before the world's greatest art (MET & MOMA), the world's greatest archaeological discoveries (Museum of Natural History), the world's greatest invitation ("Give me your tired your poor your huddled masses"), and the world's greatest hospital (Staten Island General, the place of my complicated yet successful birth).

For others it's building successful businesses, amassing large portfolios, and playing the stock market. These folks would certainly visit Wall Street during a trip to NYC but alas, I have zero interest in doing so. My lifelong ambivalence about money was influenced by the early issues of The Mother Earth News, the counter culture ideals of simplicity and downward mobility, and the Christian virtues of contentment and frugality. I can't wait to pay homage to the United Nations, an organization whose goal, World Peace and Justice, resonates with me more than Macy's, SAKS, and Bloomingdales.  

My dad's 1963 beaver pelts
curing on our patio

And for others like my dad who spent more time in the woods than in airports, his compensation was trail blazing, hunting, fishing, clamming, and trapping. Growing up I heard tales of clams pulled off the shore of Staten Island and sold to the Campbell's Soup Company, muskrat pelts trapped on Staten Island wetlands and sold in the garment district in NYC, and a home made diving bell with hand pump he and his buddies used to walk on the ocean floor (more about this later). I did not inherit his Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett, or Captain Nemo genes. Instead, I got into theology and philosophy and spent my adult years as a rural parson in a dinky town in the Pacific Northwest. I can't wait to expose my faith to the world's greatest city and see how it holds up.