I am obsessed with Google Earth. This is, undoubtedly, the result of my long friendship with an esteemed, if obsessive mapmaker—you know who I mean. Some days I sit at my desk and scroll over the surface of the planet, picking out and zooming in on significant places from my life:
The hospital in Ohio where I was born.
The fast food restaurant that replaced the bar where I met Louis.
The donut shop where I met my wife.
The family graveyard in Eaton, Ohio where my ancestors rest – two empty plots.
The facility where Louis resides.
I wonder if Louis would have even thought to make his map had a resource like this been available thirty years ago. We make our own new-maps now, recording longitude and latitude, magnifying and panning. Lives traced on the virtual globe.
Sometimes I look at the places I’ve spent my days over the last few years. I search parking lots for my car, hoping to find some trace of myself. Maybe one day I’ll see my bald head striding through a brisk spring afternoon. I will be my own monument – a pin-prick lost in Oklahoma’s rolling planes and tiny cities.
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