Chapter 11

Just a few months earlier, I’d talked to my brother Thomas about a school I went to in Europe right after college, three month seminar, kind of a communal experience, international. Thomas was thinking of taking a term there, he or his wife Josephine. She’d made inquiries and received a reply. The experience offered a refreshing break from routine (or in the case of a new college graduate like me who hadn’t started one, perspective, a widened view of the world he was about to enter).

I led Thomas through a virtual tour on the website. We walked beyond the school grounds (about as close to virtual reality as you can get without a headset; it was almost like bring there).

“This is the garden. They grow some of their own vegetables,” I told my brother. “You can contribute your labor if you want to work up a sweat.”

‘What kind of crops?” Thomas asked.

“Potatoes- and something else...” I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t actually volunteered much in the garden during my time at the school, not more than an hour or two in all. I liked the idea of getting my hands dirty but wasn’t primed for action.

“The land extends all the way there.” We walked further and saw the range of the cultivated ground, how wide it was. I pointed to the far edge, beyond which was a street and across it houses, a residential area. I noted a house, the one centered in the view, with blue roof tiles, and wondered if it had been there when I was. I couldn’t remember seeing it but I didn’t pay all that much attention to my surroundings, was pretty self-absorbed in those days.