The weather had finally broken so I decided to extend my daily walk. For me, walking is more than just mere exercise. And days like that one affords me an opportunity to make my outing a sojourn or what the Italians like to call a passiggiata or “formal walk.” It was an opportunity to tarry long enough to see, smell, and FEEL the world around me.
As I reached the end of my driveway, I hesitated for a second to contemplate in which direction I should head. Since I hadn’t checked on my motorcycle in the garage space I had rented about a half mile away in some time, I decided that it might be a suitable destination. South it was.
My route would take me past my old neighborhood, the one I came to when I first arrived in South Nyack over 40 years ago. On the way I would pass my original apartment, the first house I ever owned, and the apartment I lived in for many years after. Now, this was not deliberate. They just happened to be on the way. It wasn’t as if it had been a conscious decision to pass by them. I’m not overly nostalgic. Still, nostalgia cannot and should not be ignored. It comes from the many paths we have traveled in our lives to be where we are today. However, if we become overly nostalgic, we can become stuck in the past and less capable of moving into the future. So, my approach was pragmatic: I would cross those emotional bridges when I came to them. But I didn’t expect all that much.
The first I encountered was my former home. It’s a wonderful, small house that I bought many years ago. Strangely, it was just up the street from the first apartment I came to live in here. It was the easiest move I ever made. I never rented a truck. I just rolled everything up the street. Anyway, I lived there for about 10 years, part of that time with my then wife and stepsons. The place had been well-kept and had a bright new coat of paint. It looked good. But what happened next surprised me. As I stood directly in front of the place for the first time in a long while, I was overwhelmed by my feelings. So much of my life had happened there. There were so many memories that seemed to flood into my head and heart that I thought they would burst!
Although that feeling still lingers even days later, the intensity of it faded after a few minutes. It was time to move on, physically and emotionally. After pausing for a few moments, I continued to my final destination. Along the way I passed the two apartments I also lived in for many years, each with their own rich history. Although not quite as intense as they were for my experience at the house, the memories still washed over me like a warm summer wave. I did not resist. And why should I? Just like every gray hair in my beard and wrinkle on my face, I earned each and every one of those memories they represent. In a sense, they provide a road map to my life. And like all maps, they offer a view of where we’ve been but also a plan for where we are going. Keep on moving. I did. It’s the only way to make new memories.
Frank LoBuono is a Nyack resident, photographer, blogger and retired CBS News journalist.
Editor’s note: The views expressed in this article are those of this independent writer and not the Nyack News & Views editorial staff. We welcome submissions from anybody who is interested in publishing their thoughts, ideas and perspectives about issues facing our community, both large and small. Please send submissions to info@nyacknewsandviews.com.
Photo credit: George Pejoves
