Thoreau

I first read Walden back in the summer of 1990. I was 21 at the time. Freshly removed from a four year stint in the Marine Corps. I was floundering, still not sure where I was going or what I was going to do with my life. I moved back in with my parents, bought an old clunker Ford van, a lawnmower, and began cutting grass. I thought about going to college, but decided that I was not cut out for academics. I was never a good student. I couldn't hold my attention that long, so I was often lost quickly. My mind wandered too much especially if I was sitting next to a window. Also, there was something about the fluorescent lights early in the morning...they made my head spin. I would sit at my desk while the teacher stood in front of the class making gutteral sounds or grunts (at least it seemed that way to me). Since I never ate breakfast I was protien deficient, and therefore lacked energy. In desperation the only thing that I could do was sit there in my seat and wait for the bell like one of Pavlov's hungry dogs. No, academics did not suit me, at least in a formal setting. So what to do? In 1990 I was four years removed from that torture known as high school. My business was slow in starting...actually my heart was never in it. I would mow a few yards, work on my van, and have the rest of the afternoon off. I was always a reader, and this summer I read like a madman, and took notes. I read Homer, Virgil, and Herodotus. I then started reading philosophy books. Somewhere along the line I found Thoreau. I had heard of him before since we both hailed from the same state, Massachusetts, but I knew very little about him or his work.

                                                              
     Henry David Thoreau was born in Concord, Massachusetts in 1817. He came from a middle class family. His father was a manufacterer of pencils. He studied at Harvard, and then taught school for a while. He became friends with a number of other New England writers including Nathaniel Hawthorne, Louis May Alcott, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. Thoreau is now associated with a philosophy called transcendentalism, which, basically is vague in definition, but most adherents believe in a subtle return to nature, and a form of self reliance. I guess that I would define the philosophy as being thus: A person is not truly free unless he or she breaks away from the constraints of a rigid society where government keeps an individual yoked. It is a utopian philosophy that even some proponents admit is probably impossible to attain. Thoreau was an idealist of sorts. He was willing to spend a night in jail for refusing to pay a poll tax. In 1845 he moved into a cabin at Walden Pond in Concord on land owned by his friend Emerson. He lived there for two years, making observations and attempting to live a transcendental existence in which, of course, he was only partly successful. Some so called conservatives today erroneously believe that transcendentalism was actually an early form of communism, or socialism. This is absurd, and nothing can be further from the truth. This belief probably took hold because of a community known as Brooke farm, where for a time a number of these transcendentalists went to live. Transcendentalism today would probably be likened somewhat to the libertarian movement that stresses less government intrusion. Thoreau helped spark the civil disobedience movement where proponents engaged in peaceful protests against governments at which they felt wronged. This type of protest would work well when directed toward civilized governments as Ghandi proved in his protests against Great Britain. However, it could never work against despotisms that are intent on retaining power by any means regardless of the cost.

Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)

  
 Before today it had been many years since I had picked up Walden and read from it. I guess that I got it's message. Not long after I first read it I was driving to Worcester from Boston, and drove through Concord on the way. Out of curiosity I decided to stop at Walden Pond. I don't know why...did I think that I could somehow become Thoreau for a while? It was summer and the place was mobbed with people, myself included in the herd. Needless to say I left without even visiting the cabin and continued on toward Worcester. My mother-in-law use to always say "my reality is not your reality." The lesson that I learned from this, was, perhaps, "Thoreau's Walden is not my Walden." If that makes any sense at all. Everyone has their certain place of repose, mine was not at Walden Pond. I hate crowds, or anywhere that there is a large gathering of people. It makes me nervous, although I can't explain why. Not that I am an agoraphobic, at least as it relates to the standard definition of the term, for I love the open spaces of the outdoors. So...what might Thoreau think if he suddenly found himself at his restored cabin at Walden Pond on this the 5th day of May in the year 2012 (the sesquicentennial of his death).Who knows...he might greet his green disciples with some tofu, a latte, and a power bar. Then again, he may, perhaps, stand behind a tree peering from afar and wonder what all the hullaballoo is all about.