Guest Column: How, then, do I live? I live to neighbor

Nevada resident Janis Pyle defines what she thinks makes a good neighbor.
Nevada resident Janis Pyle defines what she thinks makes a good neighbor.

This was the juxtaposition of events: I had just witnessed the solar eclipse the Monday before and was approaching my morning rounds still filled with celestial wonder. On Friday, April 12, 2024, I finally had a pure day off, one free from work and other obligations.

I had recently finished the thoughtful book “How Do You Live?” by Japanese author Genzaburo Yoshino and translated by Bruno Navasky, a novel first published in 1937. As a teenage boy ponders life’s big questions, he is mentored by a young uncle, who employs history, geography, physics, and ethics to instruct him about living a great life.

First stop: Casey’s on Lincoln Way in Nevada. Talk still centered around the awesomeness of the eclipse, lending sacredness to my routine. The staff knows me as a “regular” and makes sure my wavy cheddar sour cream potato chips and zero sugar orange pop are stocked. I buy daily papers and sometimes, okay oftentimes, a Number 18 scratch crossword ticket. We share ups and downs; life and death are constants in my work as a server in an assisted living center.

Then off to breakfast at LaFinquita (meaning “the little farm”), the Mexican restaurant on Highway 30 up the road near Colo. It had been at least five years since I frequented this space; most recently, it had been The Country House. Over a Chilango omelet (with extra pico de gallo), I pondered the next five years: Who will have won the 2024 Presidential election? What if the Party I Don’t Want to be in Power wins? Will rights be added or taken away? Will journalists be allowed to write freely? Will America be at war? (As a news junkie, I am all too aware that Ukraine and Gaza are relatively recent household words.) Will another virus go awry? Fortunately, my “what-iffing” was tempered by a good chat with my waiter Mario Flores, whose family from Honduras owns the restaurant.

Next stop: The Colo Public Library. Spending 15 minutes there, I witnessed true community as we loyal patrons engaged in book talk covering multiple genres. I shared about the book on my mind, which falls into the young adult category. “It has lots of parallels for our times,” I asserted. As I left with a big bundle of Amish novels (and an historical fiction novel recommended by library assistant Pam), librarian Joanie Jamison offered me a cookie in celebration of National Library Week. “They’re from Bricktown Bakery in Nevada,” she proclaimed. She, too, is a neighbor-er and promoter of good books, local places, and big ideas.

Back home in Nevada for lunch. My reflections were a variation on the title of my book-of-the-moment: How do I live my life? It seems I live to neighbor. As I munched on my library cookie, a miniature work of art featuring white icing and sprinkles with the word READ piped in red, I paused to be grateful for my daily rounds of precious stories. I realized the convenience store line, the restaurant booth, the library setting, and the prep station at work can be platforms for building community. The stories that wash up on the shores of the oceans of our minds each day are beautiful seashells meant to be shared. In the telling, neighborliness and goodwill can prevail.

I am eternally grateful to my co-worker Ray: On April 8, she met me at the door, thrust a pair of dark sunglasses with confetti-colored frames into my hands, and said: “I’ve been waiting for you. You have to see the eclipse.” I immediately fell under the solar eclipse’s primordial spell, knowing my Earth time would probably be used up by the time the next one rolls around in 2044. I can still feel the pull of forces and powers that measure time in eons, not just campaign seasons. There are spiritual mysteries that unite all of us, whatever lever we pull in the voting booth. I will still be transfixed for weeks and months, guided by this quote from “How Do You Live?” “We are all human beings, so if we can’t all live a life that is truly human, something is wrong. A society that does not allow this is wrong.”

Janis Pyle, from Nevada, is a hunger and homelessness awareness advocate. She can be reached at janispyle@yahoo.com.

This article originally appeared on Ames Tribune: Guest Column: How, then, do I live? I live to neighbor