We frequently go back to the past hoping to find a different future

By David McElroy · March 4, 2018

My name ought to be mounted somewhere on this table, except for the fact that nobody but me would care, of course.

I’m sitting in a booth where I must have sat a thousand times before. It’s in a Whataburger restaurant in the Birmingham suburb of Trussville. Until I moved to a different suburb three years ago, this was my home away from home for many years.

When this place opened, it was the only restaurant near my house that was open 24 hours a day and had WiFi. Since I worked from home at the time and often welcomed the chance to get out, this became my second office. I was here at all hours of the day and night. All the employees knew me by name.

I have no reason to be over here today. I almost never come to this part of town anymore. But today is the second time recently that I’ve felt drawn to drive over here for no apparent reason. But I think I know why I’m here.

My everyday world is entirely different now than it was in those days. I have different restaurants where the employees know me. I’m working in two different offices and spending my time out selling real estate, too. I have no real connection to this world anymore.

But as I sit here in the late afternoon — with the sun starting to get into my eyes as it always has from this angle until it sinks below Chalkville Mountain — I find myself realizing that I’m trying to connect with something from the past. In an instinctive way, I’m looking for something familiar from better days — and I’m hoping that will somehow turn into something better for where I am now.

Consciously, I know how ridiculous this is, but here I am anyway.

I’ve experienced love here. I’ve experienced success of various kinds. I’ve been happy. I’ve made friends here.

I sat right there in the parking lot — just in front of the door, maybe 30 feet from where I am — and had a very important and meaningful phone conversation with someone who loved me. I was sitting at this table when I got the phone call that sealed a $25,000 profit on a political deal when I had rolled the dice and could have lost thousands of dollars instead. I’ve sat here with little children and played games and took pictures as they shrieked in delight that someone was giving them attention.

None of the stories matter to anyone anymore, but they still matter to me. They connect me to a time when I felt happier, when I had more money, when I felt loved, when I felt that I had a future family — when so much was better.

But here’s the thing. I don’t know whether it’s good to indulge this nostalgia or not. It’s an age-old dilemma. Do I need to look to the past for something I’ve lost — or do I need to cut all ties and thoughts of the past in order to find a happier life in the future?

I don’t know. I’m not even sure there’s a right answer. I could make an argument for either.

More and more lately, I find myself having to close the door on things from my past. It’s been a bitter experience and I’m not really good at it. As singer/songwriter Sam Phillips wrote, “I’m not good at things that I don’t want to do.”

I’m not happy to leave the last hopes of family behind. I’m not happy to give up on a love I desperately needed. I’m not happy about the feeling that I’m running out of time to start doing some things that matter to me.

So when I’m drawn here today, am I here to say goodbye to the past? Or am I hoping to find some piece of love or hope or success that I can capture in a bottle and try to grow again?

Unlike a lot of people, I’m willing to completely cut ties to the past if I’m sure it’s the right thing to do and if I’m sure of where I’m going. I know that what matters is my connection to people, not to places or dead memories. I could move away from this place and never look back if I had something better I was going to.

But since I don’t know where I’m going — and I don’t know who I might find love with — I’m stuck in this weird place where I’m looking to the past and hoping to find something better.

There’s a sweet nostalgia to sitting here and remembering what’s happened to me here in the past — but it’s also bitter to consider what I’ve lost and what I don’t yet know how to find.

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I’m seeing a lot of simplistic and dishonest explanations right now for the current rioting in France. Those on the populist far right claim it’s all about Muslim immigrants to France disrupting the culture. Their message is that this sort of thing is going to happen in the U.S. unless “we defend the border.” On the far left, socialists and their fellow travelers claim the riots are all about wealthy people in France not paying enough taxes, resulting in cuts to government services. The truth is far more complicated, but it’s rooted in the decline of population growth in Europe. There simply aren’t enough young workers paying into the tax system anymore, so cuts in social services were inevitable. There is genuine cultural tension as more and more people immigrate from other countries, but government cuts to education and other services are even more important to what’s happening. The situation is complicated, so don’t let dishonest people with U.S. political agendas tell you that it happens to support whatever they were already promoting for partisan reasons.

Here’s another reason to appreciate the cats in your life: New research involving 93 countries found that places with more cats per person also tended to have happier people. The researchers say the finding fits with previous evidence that living with pets can reduce loneliness and stress while providing companionship, emotional attachment and social support. The study doesn’t prove that cats cause greater happiness, but it certainly adds to the evidence that sharing your home — and your life — with a cat might be good for you.

The company that owns Facebook and Instagram is heavily promoting its new AI-based software assistant called Muse, but people who are using it as it was designed are incredibly foolish. An early adopter of the software discovered that a few days ago when he advertised an item for sale on Facebook Marketplace — and he inadvertently gave Muse full authority to act on his behalf. The software agreed to a lowball offer made by another Facebook user and then gave that man the home address of the man for whom he was an agent. The software told the buyer that the seller was home and waiting for him. When the buyer showed up and waited angrily, the would-be buyer left an angry review for the man. And this angry man had the seller’s home address. It was only well after that that the software reported what it had done and admitted it had made a mistake. I won’t be putting that much power into the hands of any software. I think anyone who agrees to such terms is a fool. And the software’s user agreement says you’re responsible for purchases the software makes in your name. Nope.

Meet my new girlfriend. Her name is Meg. And she’s my little sweetheart. A couple of months ago, a neighbor across the street told me about a new stray in the neighborhood that she and I were both soon feeding. The cat had been very skittish about contact and she had a lot of scabs and parasites in her fur, but a trip to the vet last week revealed that she was otherwise in good health. The vet estimates her to be 1 to 2 years old. I named her for Meg Murry, the 13-year-old protagonist of Madeleine L’Engle’s wonderful book, “A Wrinkle in Time.” (Please read the book. Don’t watch the horrible movie.) Since we lost Lucy almost a year ago, it seems appropriate that we finally have a new little girl to join the household. She’s already captured my heart, but Alex, Oliver and Sam aren’t there quite yet.

There’s nothing socially acceptable that’s as dangerous as drinking alcohol. Most people grow up being told to “drink responsibly” — and all of us see people abusing this drug in one way or another — but the truth is that drinking alcohol is always a terrible risk. The alcohol in these drinks is toxic and the human liver has to work hard to filter the toxins out. What most people don’t realize is that alcohol is classified as a known carcinogen by the World Health Organization — because of the well-established connection between imbibing and various cancers. Many people have taken refuge behind the idea that light or moderate drinking might be safe, but a new study shows that drinking even one drink a day increases the risks of 10 types of cancer. When I was a teen-ager, I looked around and saw the negative effects that this behavior had on a lot of people and decided not to start drinking, so I’ve never even tried this poison. The evidence keeps piling up that I was lucky to have come to that conclusion early.

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