On the Significance of Place

I had an interesting thought today while at an eclectic little restaurant in Omaha's Benson district. It was my first time there, and I was impressed. The food was wonderful, the decor splendid. The kind of place that really made you feel alive and excited for the possibilities that come from exploring a new place.

So I'm eating my pumpkin pancakes and ham, and a friend leans over and confides in me, saying, "You know, this place used to be a pawn shop. You're eating where someone got shot and killed a few years back."

Lovely thought. I kept eating. Delicious.

Perhaps its a defect of whatever part of me should be expressing empathy and disgust, but I just couldn't muster either. Instead what immediately came to mind as I swallowed another bite of fresh, seasonal fruit was that surely, in addition to death occurring on this very spot, there must have been life and birth. The sheer amount of life on this planet being what it is, there must have been millions upon millions of organisms living on this spot at one point or other.

To mark it by one unfortunate incident seems trite, even selfish.

Hell, for all I know the place where I live could have been the sight of a great ancient holocaust, but I enjoy it very much. I suppose I could conclude by saying that there is good and bad in everything, but it makes far more sense to say that a place just is, and be done with it.

I find floral bouquets along highways annoying for the same reason. How many people commuting for some reason or other had a positive experience at the same spot where someone else died horribly, or even had a bad day? The place, I guarantee, doesn't care about flower bouquets, which are going to rot anyway. People might appreciate a few wildflower seeds, though.

The earth is for the living, so live!