My class and I were once discussing movies. When I mentioned that I'd recently seen a film under discussion, someone asked, "Who'd you see it with." When I said that I'd gone by myself, they were incredulous. "What," I said, "You've never gone to a movie by yourself?" They hadn't.
But then I realized that it just might be a matter of age. What they saw as abnormal, if not a complete oddity, becomes less so as one ages. In fact, I'd wager that all these years later, most of them have had the experience.
Going somewhere by yourself became the topic the other day as I chatted with a small circle of friends. One shared that she seems more reluctant to go somewhere by herself since the pandemic and resultant lockdown. "I got halfway there and then almost turned back," said another friend when explaining a trip to a specialty grocery store she recently made. We all seemed to agree that a slight case of agoraphobia seems to be more common than one might think.
Later, I thought over the times I've traveled alone and realized a couple of things. What became apparent is that sometimes if you really want to do something or see something, or go somewhere, you really have no choice. I thought back to the time I flew from LA to Houston to begin my time as a VISTA Volunteer as a recent college graduate back in 1969. Certainly, I was a bit nervous, never having flown before, but my anxiety was focused more on who would be there for me when I landed. I had no frame of reference on which to draw. I was relieved when I saw some people holding signs with names on them as I walked through the airport. Soon, there was a sign for VISTA trainees and I was soon ushered to a bus and a ride to my destination.
A few weeks ago, I set off alone to a part of the country I'd never seen. High in the Cascade mountains of Washington state I found my lodging and spent a few days at a lake where I was mostly alone. On my return home, I stopped in a small farming town for breakfast and ended up sitting at the counter of one of the only restaurants in town. Among the bustling waitresses, the old men in suspenders, and the young families, I was virtually invisible.
At my age now, it's easy to be invisible. I look like any older male on Social Security. Back in the 60s and 70s, I'd have had to deal with stares and muttering because of the generation gap. What was once a threatening long-haired kid has morphed into an old country boy. Funny how it all washes out.
*Footnote: The popularity of The History Channel's show called ALONE is a strong testimony to how fascinated we seem to be with our ability to function without other people around us constantly. The participants are all skilled survivalists who can make their own shelters, procure food from the environment, and endure long, cold hours by themselves. In the end, it is most often the desire to be with others that tests their ability to function alone the most.
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