This is the third and final part of the re-write.

How far away we’ve come from our roots swinging from the trees. How far we’ve come from our hunter/gatherer days. There is no predator that we have left to fear, and no landscape that we have not conquered. We have removed ourselves from nature so completely that we feel more at home in man-made, manicured gardens.

I admit, there are exceptions, even throwbacks. The few that grow up in rural or forest areas still yearn for shopping malls and technology. Even they cut their lawn, trim their hedges, and strategically plant their trees.

Many universities have horticultural and demonstration gardens on their campuses, which are host to countless wedding ceremonies. I have gone to Beal Gardens on MSU’s campus during many emotionally turbulent times, and have felt at home and comforted.

This is the second part of the rewrite.

My name is Dave, and I’m a suburbanite.

“Hi, Dave.”

Hello. Arguably, I’ve lived in it all my life. Even when my family lived in Clio, a small farming town outside of Flint, we lived in a pocket of Suburban Reality. We lived in a sub division that was bordered on all sides by acres and acres of field. It was an incongruous blip on a rural radar. Of course, Clio is no longer limited to the one sub division. Like most places, it has succumbed to the suburban lifestyle. It has a Wal-Mart. I’m certain that all of this has affected my views of the outdoors.

So, after our move to real suburbia – 25 miles north of Detroit – my brother and I were willingly submersed into nature as our Dad got us into Boy Scouts. From the time I joined until the beginning of High School, I was able to learn respect for nature, though I never quite felt at home there.

To this day, though I lived amongst city people trying to escape to nature, I find myself never quite at ease in an outdoor setting. My name is Dave, and I’m a suburbanite.

“Hi, Dave.”

This was a revisit of the nature themes. A previous essay (I haven’t posted it) badly needed to be split into three pieces, and re-written. This was the suggestion from my writing group, and then they were all surprised when I actually did it for my writing journal. Showed them. ;)

Landscape is what surrounds you. Take a map of your home and your town and your city, lay it flat, and let it grow into three dimensions. Let the trees of the forest surround and swallow you, so they become your landscape. Let the two-dimensional grid spring into the three dimensions that you see each and every day.

When I think of a landscape that is home, what immediately springs to mind is a subway tunnel or a complicated overpass in downtown Detroit. I think of computer labs and server rooms. I think of basements of skyscrapers. I think of mega-highways and bundles of fiber-optic cable running beneath the ground. When I think of the wild, I think of neon- and blacklite-filled dance clubs with bass so loud that your sternum vibrates. When I think of risk, I think of public speaking in boardrooms or convention halls. When I think of being natural, I think of my home and my wife.

None of my instinctive landscapes involve the outdoors or nature.

Last assignment about food.

It is surreal to be sitting at the wedding party table during the reception at your wedding. All of your friends and family are spread out before you, with those you care about most deeply to your left and your right. And, of course, you can’t see them, or the mischievous things that they’re plotting.

Every few seconds, someone will start tapping on their glass or champagne bottle, and you kiss the one that you will love and cherish to the end of your days. You’re lucky if you get to swallow two bites between clinking glass, doubly lucky if you can swallow before you kiss.

Also, you get to watch all of your friends and family file to get food, while you’ve already snagged whatever your too-nervous-and-happy-for-words stomach will let you eat. They’re all looking up at you and talking to other guests, and you know that they love you. You know that they are there to witness your joining, and share food with you in celebration.

And that’s not even mentioning the after-party at the bar.

This was the second assignment about food. We had to write about a strong memory we had that was associated with food.

There was a funeral when I was young, but I can’t remember how long ago or who had died. I remember that we were dressed up, as children, and that my mother’s side of the extended family was meeting us. The group was meeting after the funeral for food, and for family company.

I don’t remember crying, or sadness. I remember it being overcast and drizzly, as funeral days always seem to be for my family. I don’t remember who arranged to meet at the restaurant that we met at, which is odd, because I remember that being difficult.

We met at Tony’s of Birch Run, and I could see outside from my seat. They had moved several tables next to each other to seat all of us together, and the cousins all sat in a group. There were moments of quiet, and moments of reflection, but I was young enough not to notice and not to understand.

I remember the chocolate shake, and that it was enormous. I remember that it was so big that they poured it into a to go cup for me. I remember that it was so thick that the straw would collapse when I sucked on it really hard.

And yet, I still can’t remember who had died.