Henry and Edith

Society seems to be stuck in the fast lane.

Busy, these days, seems to be the norm.

Sometimes when I bump into friends on the street, I find myself compelled to convey an illusion of busyness, just because one feels inferior if one is not busy.

Heaven forbid you have a quiet day with nothing to do but set beside a pond and think and read a book.

If Thoreau could see us today...

That is what I keep telling myself.

But I know better.

Because, if there is one thing I have learned from literature, it is that mankind, over time, has changed very little.

Henry David Thoreau escaped to Walden's pond in search of a simpler life.

In a trance of endless social engagements and mindless activities, Edith Wharton wrote Twilight Sleep.


Thoreau died in 1862.

Edith was born in 1862.

One began where the other left off.

Both authors had a sense of how hectic life can be ...

Mankind, it seems, has always been busy.

Or, are we just busy being mankind?

Walden Pond

I know Thoreau well.

Not through his books.

I tried reading "Walden" once and all I could think of was show me the damn pond so I can throw myself in and spare myself the agony of this book.

I know Thoreau because I live with him.

My husband is Thoreau.

My husband could spend two years setting beside a pond.

Come to think of it, when we were dating, I lived near a pond. And while my husband pretended to be visiting me, in reality, he was really visiting the fishing pond … should have been a sign.

Now that I think about it, I realize hubby and Thoreau share the same birthday.

Ironically, Edith and I share the same birthday.

Coincidence?

I think not.

As I began this post, Thoreau and Wharton were the two authors whose works came to mind when I thought about mankind and how hectic our lives have become. Each wrote - although with very different style - on this very subject.

As it happens, hubby and I share more than just birthdays with these authors.

We also share a love of place.

Thoreau loved his pond and preferred a simple life in the woods.

While Wharton, on the other hand, appreciated the finer things in life and lived in a mansion and wrote The Decoration Of Houses.

So I guess it should come as no surprise when hubby wants to live in the country, while I prefer the city with its art and architecture.

Wharton split her time between The Mount and Europe.

Who wouldn't want that?

Thoreau spent two years on an isolated pond in the woods.

zzzz ... zzzz.

The Mount

Hubby and I, it seems, are the modern day equivalent of Henry and Edith.

Two complete opposites coming together through place and time with absolutely nothing in common but a love of place and an appreciation of books.

Next month we will be married twenty-nine years.

It's a union of mutual respect.

I respect the fact that he likes to go fishing and wander about in the woods.

He respects that I am a town mouse and prefer cafes and libraries and big old houses on tree lined streets.

Edith Wharton

Henry David Thoreau

I guess the moral of the story is, before you marry someone, check their birthdays.