A Place like This
“I don’t ever want to end up in a place like this.” Those were the words that left my father’s mouth as buckled our seatbelts in his car. It was our weekly visit to his sister. She had been unable to care for herself since her late teenage years due to a severe case of schizophrenia.
Care facilities like these are usually depressing. It’s a place where difficult family members are sometimes abandoned so that the rest of the family can live a normal life. As a child, I recall the near-constant smell of excrement and seeing visibly lost patients. I had scary conversations with strangers who were struggling with dementia.
Through these visits, I watched my father demonstrate an ultimate level of compassion. He showed unconditional love towards his sister, and he would do everything he could to make her happy. Weekly visits would culminate with a drive around town because it would make her smile. No other patient received visits to the extent that my aunt did.
The struggle with mental illness terrified my father—and understandably so. He had a front-row seat to his sister’s lifelong battle with severe mental illness.
I arrived at my mother’s house to spend the afternoon with her. She lives in a popular suburb of Atlanta. It’s always a trip down memory lane because she lives 2 miles from my childhood home. We talked and decided that we would go to Five Guys since they are my favorite hamburgers.
The restaurant is across the street from my mother’s neighborhood. The modest journey includes a half-mile walk across a three-lane divided state road. We walked to enjoy the beautiful day, and there was no reason not to! Thankfully, there were sidewalks most of the way, including a crosswalk across the busy intersection. Once in the shopping center, we were honked at while crossing — no crosswalk anywhere in sight there. The driver wanted to let us know that we should not be walking in car country. We were in the way.
Once at the restaurant, we sat at one of the red outdoor tables and enjoyed our deliciously unhealthy food. My other and I each ordered a hamburger and shared a small bit of fries. Looking around, I noticed that every patron that was in the restaurant was severely overweight. It was shocking.
It clicked. The people who live in this part of Georgia have all of the cards stacked against them. Any kind of exercise or healthy activity requires effort—going out of one’s way, spending extra time, and building a routine. There’s no natural healthy activity that’s part of daily life. It’s a true struggle.
For a moment, I imagine moving back home. I see myself putting on the pounds, spending hours watching television, and living a secluded suburban life. It makes me feel depressed when I realize that I would not thrive in a suburban environment.
Suburban car life is the default choice for most of America. Not owning a car makes one a misfit. People suspect that you are either destitute or mentally ill. Suburban culture pushes people into isolation. Social engagement in a suburban setting requires proactive planning and driving. There are fewer opportunities for serendipitous moments like seeing a friend on the street and inviting them to dinner.
Sitting at this Five Guys, surrounded by people who are struggling with their health, I thought to myself “God. I hope I never end up in a place like this.”
