The Edge of the Guest House

I remember my dad telling me a story about the phrase Eureka!; this phrase must always be declared as an exclamation.  

I am not sure if I asked where the phrase Eureka came from, or if he had read it in the paper, or made it up to entertain me, as many fathers should continue to do.  I do know that I will never attempt to validate or refute the story's authenticity.  I would rather be wrong for the rest of my life then tarnish, even if menially and superficially, the memory and story my father gave me.

Some scientist... a forefront thinker.  I forget who.  I know it is someone obvious like Galileo, or Plato, or Da Vinci, was floating in a bath tub pondering something about things floating and mass and the idea of displacement. 

(It is amazing how much we remember and how much we forget all at the same time.  I remember so much more than I realized by simply typing out the introduction to the story, but cannot recall the main character's name!)

He suddenly had an epiphany, as most people who are remembered or half-remembered do.  He immediately jumped up out of the tub and, in a flurry of white scientist beard and eyes sunken in wrinkles he ran down the street to screaming his wife's name "Eureka! Eureka! Eureka!" stark naked for all Glycon and Zeus to see, oozing with jealousy. 

And so, Galivincto solved a problem that had been giving him quite the itch and is remembered for his catch-phrase as well as his ability to run through a street naked and be remembered as a hero.

Today I asked another teacher what they missed most about Australia when they spent a few months working in England.  Three things stood out.  The first was space: Australia is to England as an Obese American is to an Irish midget.  

Too far...?

The food.  An obvious one here.  How huge a role food plays in our lives, and how little notice we give to eating it, and how little thought we put into not eating it and all the time in between.  Yet it is always on our minds.


I don't know what I would do if I couldn't eat.  I know what I couldn't do if I couldn't eat.  I couldn't do a lot of things.  I suppose I could decompose if I couldn't eat.  I like eating.  We all do.  I had McDonalds for the first time in Australia today.  It tasted like America and boy was it the worst way for me to feel like I was at home.

The third thing was just a sort of mishmash of missing the familiarity of the soil and all the things you do on the piece of soil you are most comfortable with. 

Sitting in an internationally focused "Guest House" hostel, I feel more at home than I have yet in Australia.  Perhaps because Melbourne on the surface is a big city like Grand Rapids or Chicago or Indianapolis.  Perhaps it's because I have thousands of Ronald McDonald calories sinking my gut through the bed mattress like an anchor cutting through sea water.  Maybe it's because I am flying home in seven days and everything but my body is already there. 

I don't know what I will miss most about Australia, and I don't know what I currently miss most about America. I will exclude missing people in my "What did/do you miss most" scenarios.  Missing people is a given.  


I do know that when I am not at the mountains, whether Rocky, Smokey or Appalachy, I miss the mountains.   I know that I miss moving East to West, following the sun and the trails walked ten generations ago.  I know I miss feeling family through the walls of rooms, or in their car as they drive home from work.  I miss knowing where police prefer to sit, and which gas stations give their donuts away at a certain time.

When I figure out exactly what it is I miss which may very well be what makes us all human then maybe I will be able to get away with running down the street naked, shouting my wife's name.  I am sure if I ever figure it out I'll be old and close to death.

Cheers,
Melmoth