My posts usually attempt to tie some anthropological perspective to some experience that’s popped up in my professional or parenting life. This post, not so much. This is just a random, wistful recollection and reflection.
As someone who’s spent a lot of time studying archaeology, I’ve also spent a lot of time thinking about the passage of time. One of the most general contrasting set of contours of history is the tension between change and continuity.
As I was sitting around tonight, ideas of change and continuity came to mind. It’s a Saturday night, I’m in my suburban New York home, my wife is putting my three year old to bed and my one year old has been sleeping for an hour. As a parent of small children, I’m of course spending a Saturday evening at home.
Twenty years ago, a warm Saturday night would likely mean driving through a New Mexico desert in one of my parent’s cars, searching for an illicit party where I might get to chat with a girl I had a crush on.
Much has changed, but it’s still a Saturday night. And in both 1991 and 2011, I’m drinking a Natural Light.