In the latest issue of NR, David Harsanyi self-deprecatingly shares about aging and embracing boredom. He writes:
And, anyway, these days my wife and I get our workout by walking. Not speed-walking or hiking. I don’t really get much pep in my step at all, to be honest. Nothing fancy. Just plain old walking down the street. There is an entire industry, I soon learn, that manufactures footwear and clothing specifically tailored for lazy people like me. The reviews for walking sneakers make you feel like you’re a year away from being carted off to an old-age home — “Pros: Lightweight and breathable. Good shock absorption. Cons: Laces are not easy to change. Not warm enough for cold weather walking.” It’s okay, because I talk to my wife about our latest epic Scrabble game or monochromatic puzzle we tried to do, or ponder which bird seeds I am going to buy next.
That’s right, the former owners of my new home left us an impressive bird feeder. I intended to dismantle the thing and throw it in the trash, because bird-watching is probably the fourth-most tedious activity ever invented, right behind doing puzzles, fishing, and bike-riding. Now, of course, I am obsessed with birds. I consider myself something of an expert on the local varieties. I own binoculars. I’ve observed bald eagles and hummingbirds. I have begun recognizing the distinct calls of each species.
My embrace of the boring life has taken some getting used to. My wife and I not only went swimming with the sharks in Belize on our honeymoon, we hiked the jungle at night among jaguars and snakes. We used to seek out adventure. I was a punk-rock kid, for God’s sake. Now I know the difference between a hermit thrush and a northern flicker. But it’s all fine. Act your age. It’s a life that can be reliably enriching.
As a recent amateur gardener and woodworker, I feel much the same. Not many are interested in my clamp rack or the particular stakes used to buttress the tomatoes, but there is pleasure in both. Moreover, the satisfaction is not tied to outside approval or status but to the pastimes and their respective challenges.
The American fears many things — Germany, salad, a hand appearing in the gap as the elevator door closes — but what we seem to fear most is to be thought boring, much more than any of us would care to admit. In fact, there’s this whole industry, quite profitable, where we share things online for the approval of others. Harsanyi’s engaging acceptance of boredom is enviable — downright conservative in the most excellent and stodgy fashion.
May we all seek to find our equivalent of shamelessly puttering in the yard while rocking fresh New Balance 624s.