The Boy from the Center of the Universe

I met the new graduate student in the stairwell, where I was talking with a professor. He raced up the staircase to learn he had just missed her class. I was taken by his ease with her, his obvious familiarity with the course material.

At the end of the next class, the new guy suggested we all retire to the favorite graduate student beer haunt, and a good group of us did. During the course of the evening I asked him where he was from, and he replied, “The center of the universe.” I couldn’t decide whether his reply was charming or annoyingly uninformative.

Over the next few weeks I’d often meet the new guy on the way to the biology building. He’d point out an inconspicuous wildflower and turn its biology into an exciting story of nature. He’d direct my attention to a bumblebee, visiting one flower and then its closest neighbor. Because the wildflower’s gene dispersal was mediated by this pollinator, if most pollinators visited flowers in close proximity to one another, the wildflower’s genetic neighborhood would be small. Small genetic neighborhood could eventually lead to differentiation among dispersed populations of the wildflower, and ultimately, theoretically speaking, speciation.

It turned out the new guy was headed to Virginia over Thanksgiving, close to my own destination, and he offered me a ride. So it was that I arrived at the center of the universe: a town in the Shenandoah Valley with one traffic light, a gas station, a small food market, and few other amenities.

I guess I had grown up thinking I was from the center of the universe: New York City. Of course everyone in the country—perhaps the world—was interested in New York City: we were the advance guard of high culture. With exposure to other places and maturity this attitude wore off, but in ways my family continued to hold me to it for a long time. My mother would talk to me as if I knew of various art events in the city, my father expected me to remember various roadways, and my siblings at times presumed I was still familiar with New York City politics. Of course they still perceived as a New Yorker, and its imprint, of course, remains with me.

Now I live in Texas, and it would be an understatement to say that Texans see their state as the center of the universe. The word that comes to mind is vainglorious. Texas stars and the state outline are constant decorating motifs, school children say a pledge to the republic along with one to the nation, and many Texans have never traveled beyond Texas’ border and have no interest in doing so. There is a postcard I’ve seen that is reminiscent of the famous New Yorker cover showing the coasts with a shrunken wasteland in between; the postcard shows Texas constituting most of the USA and other regions are given names such as “Yankeeland.”

I guess there is nothing wrong with thinking your hometown is the center of the universe; the problem arises when you mistake it for the entire universe and cannot fathom that others hold a totally different perspective.

As to that boy from the center of the universe—the one who could find a universe in the intimate association of an insect and a plant—I married him.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in North Carolina Days and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to The Boy from the Center of the Universe

  1. lmussehl says:

    Wonderful essay. Loved it.

  2. Pam says:

    I love the way you make us think about a simpler time, a time of wonder and discovery, about bees, flowers, and a larger than life character from the play of life that you happen to meet and luckily, have the opportunity to get to know, and fall in love wirh. In between and amongst the fragments of pronouncements and diatribe about how big is your universe, it’s a love story, signed, sealed and delivered. I’m yours.

  3. Thank you, Pam, for venturing to read my essays. 🙂

  4. taina says:

    Eva- It is a love story! Excellent too. This is a cool sketch. Thanks for keeping on!

  5. Thank you for your encouragement, Taina.

  6. I could relate to this story being a native Texan and knowing other native Texans who actually think that Texas is enough. Suffice it to say that it is annoying to many of us who grew up sufficiently to realize what a backwards notion that was and all it engenders, e.g., poor education, lack of culture, ignorance of other languages and people!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s