Throw the lumber over, man! Let your boat of life be light, packed with only what you need – a homely home and simple pleasures, one or two friends, worth the name, someone to love and someone to love you, a cat, a dog, and a pipe or two, enough to eat and enough to wear, and a little more than enough to drink; for thirst is a dangerous thing.
— Jerome K. Jerome, Three Men in a Boat
I have a younger friend who has already had more adventure in his three decades than most of us have in a lifetime. Walt Whitman’s multitudes are homogenous compared to his. He has a very inquisitive mind despite a Hillbilly Elegy-type upbringing. He’s traveled widely and had enough unique experiences to already make for an interesting biography. He has a very dangerous job in the justice system in which he has been hospitalized at least a couple times with gunshot wounds and other “lesser” injuries, one of which required him to fatally shoot a man in self-defense. He’s great to have a conversation with, but it also sure makes me appreciate life in my hobbit-hole, never having adventures or doing anything unexpected. No one would want to read about my life, but I wouldn’t want to live any other.
I love Three Men in a Boat. “Come and see the skulls!” I only recently learned that the K in “Jerome K. Jerome” stands for “Klapka.”
That’s probably been my favorite part so far, where he heaps abuse upon the old groundskeeper for disturbing his idyllic reverie where he’s thinking beatific thoughts about humankind. Somehow, though, I failed to convince the Lady of the House that it merited my laughter. I guess I didn’t do a convincing enough reading.