I love maps. Having spent the first twenty years of life utterly confused and confounded by them, I find them comforting now. I like knowing, for example, that if you were standing in Amsterdam, and decided to walk in a southeasterly direction, say, towards 4:30 on the dial of your watch, you would walk through the Netherlands, Germany, the Czech Republic, Austria, Hungary and finally, Romania. Walking in a straight line, you would eventually come to the Black Sea. If you were then able to hop into an amphibious vehicle, you would hit Turkey, Syria and Iraq.
I don’t know why this sort of thing interests me so much—perhaps it is because I grew up in the US, where after travelling for hours, or even days, one finds themselves still in the United States.
Also, a map makes every country look manageable, accessible, homogeneous, and calm. Every country has the same black lines for its borders, every country has a capital.
When I lived in London during college, we had a large map of Europe and Asia on the wall and we tried to memorize the capitals of countries in much the same way that my best friend, Katharine and I memorized all of the US state capitals one particularly rainy summer. I will go to my grave knowing Lincoln, Nebraska and Helena, Montana, as well as Sophia, Bulgaria.
I like maps for lots of reasons but one of them surely, is that I like to know where I am. It makes me feel secure and in control. Knowing my place in the world is something I have needed my whole life. Recently, I came across a childhood book, in which after my name, I had written on separate lines below:
9 Davis Road, Port Washington, Long Island, New York, USA, North America, Earth. Now I could add the specific galaxy as well, but who know such things at age 8?
I have done a fair amount of travelling and have moved homes 18 times. But I have been going to my summer community since I was a child. I have come to realize that I have lived there longer than anywhere else. Hancock Point is my center of gravity, my true north. It is the site of the end of my childhood, blooming adolescence, my introduction to square dancing, deep kisses, and martinis. It is my alpha and omega, and I feel blessed to have this place in my life, a place you can find on a map, but also in my inner landscape.
I will be there from July 23 until August 19, and I hope to return refreshed and renewed. Whether you stay here on beautiful Cape Ann, or travel to some distant place previously known only as a dot on a map, I hope you, too, find renewal and rejuvenation this summer.
See you at 4 Cleaves St,
Rev Susan