In my late twenties, I moved into a new home I couldn’t afford in Glen Cove, on the north shore of Long Island. My second son was born shortly after the move. I was working in the advertising business, with an hours long commute each way on the Long Island Railroad. I am certain the vast majority of the young couples living in this new community, were far more affluent than I was. We had a used Buick Skylark, donated by my wife’s family. I borrowed a beat up Chevy Nova for the second car that my friend would occasionally borrow back.
I was in way over my head, feeling increasingly more like a victim of my own construct, a very unattractive place to be. It seemed like the world was happening to me. Most every Saturday, I’d smoke a joint, before going out to mow the lawn, looking around at all the homes, wondering what the hell I was doing there. I clearly remember feeling like a Martian, living in a strange land. I was young and overwhelmed, pretending I knew what I was doing. Taking the road most traveled was a choice I made and there I was.
Decades and decades later, here I am. Recently, the Martian feeling returned, but I am now on the opposite side of that early life. Back then, I did what so many people my age and background did with their lives. Today, I am seriously older and feeling more and more isolated from the pack. I look around now and the world makes less and less sense.
I’ve been thinking about what kind of civilization it would take to travel in distances of light years from earth. One of these units is nearly six trillion miles and just one trillion has twelve zeroes. For me, that’s a level of intellectual capability that I just don’t happen to have. However, any folks, who can travel distances even far greater than that, have got to really have their shit together, if you get my drift.
I am guessing these creatures have to be seriously evolved to pull off this kind of rabbit in the hat trick of the trade. I figure they’ve got to be either, totally egalitarian, a We Are The World vibe, or the polar opposite, a Soylent Green kind of deal and it wouldn’t be the burgers doing the travel.
So, here I am in my own make believe space capsule of the mind, with a seating capacity that continues to diminish with time. I am looking around and feeling increasingly alienated by what I am witnessing on a daily basis, because it doesn’t make sense. I have no idea what kind of intergalactic visitors we will eventually have, assuming we are still alone here and I’m gonna leave that alone, too.
I suspect there’ll be no need for a sit down around a table, so we can get to know each other. They’ll know about my Martian tendencies without a word being exchanged. Hell, they’ve probably read this even before I finish it.
There are countries, whose names we don’t even know, ruled for decades by ruthless despots. We have seventy-million refugees in the world, people forced to leave their homeland, either because it’s been bombed or their lives are in mortal danger from their own people. We are by far the richest country ever on this planet and the vast majority of our people are living paycheck to paycheck. We are quickly destroying the world that has sustained our species for thousands of years, doing so at our own hand, while denying it. We can’t seem to understand that because someone’s outer layer is a different color, they are not different on the inside.
Mowing my lawn in Glen Cove was about a young man trying to be a grown up, in a world he had yet to learn about. I had no distance in my vision and was dictated by a lack of experience. The world was a strange place to me and the Martian connection came easy, a place to occasionally hide.
I have had a lot of time since my days of youthful alienation. I see what we are doing and it’s not the way an evolved species should behave, which leads me to question our evolution. Believe me, I like Darwin and I think his idea of life’s progression is genius. Now, here’s the thing, the alligator has been an alligator for well over a million years and what you see is what you get. I think the exact same thing can be said for our species. The idea that we are evolving into a higher being is wishful thinking. How we are is who we are, hence my recent Martian tendencies, because it is so upsetting.
Whether it’s beautiful creatures or the burger makers who make the schlep across the skies, they are going to find a planet in disarray and I’d sure like to have a talk with them. Maybe they’ll tell me some secret and I will jettison from my capsule and save the world.