When did I become such a loser?
Local Man Has Midlife Crisis
A few years ago, I was in Latvia to give a speech about journalism. Everyone I met said, “Thanks for coming, but why are you here?” and I’d say, “I don’t know. I said yes.”
While I was there a local student journalist interviewed me, and at some point I turned it around and started asking her questions, and she ended up telling me about Latvia’s complicated relationship with Russia—the Soviet occupation, the looming fear of modern Russia, how there were generational divides that ripped families apart, etc…She was so affected by even describing this, by what it had meant to her grandfather who had recently passed away, that she started crying. This was uncomfortable. I had not meant to provoke anything. I was just doing what Americans do, which is make small talk. And I found myself doing the other thing Americans do: trying to make the person feel better with empty gestures.
“It sounds like you’ve been through a lot. The Soviets? My god, fuck them, right? These modern Russians, too. Real bums! Seems like you guys got a nice country here, and you personally seem to be doing great! I’m sure if your grandfather were still alive, he’d be very proud. Anyway—if I see venison on a menu here, is it going to be farmed venison from New Zealand or fresh from the woods of Latvia venison?”
We said goodbye, and that was that.
The day she was describing, the one where Latvia solemnly commemorates the Soviet occupation and mourns its victims, is June 17th. Which is today!
I’m telling you this because I used to say yes to things. Latvia. Bungee jumping. The humiliating essay I was scared to publish. The apartment I couldn’t quite afford. I had a rule, which I followed deliberately: when you feel fear or anxiety about something, do it immediately. Don’t think. The thinking is the trap. Feel the fear and go directly toward it, because the fear is just information about what matters to you, and the only thing worse than doing the scary thing is becoming the person who didn’t.
That rule made me who I was. It also made me someone who ended up in Latvia eating venison and making a student journalist cry, which I count as a success.
Then a few years ago my life fell apart in the specific way that New York lives fall apart, which is that the money stopped and the apartment went with it.
