“I may not know who I am, but I know where I am from.” –Wallace Stegner
The great Wallace Stegner, dean of Western writers, was speaking about the American West at large when he penned that immortal line about man’s purpose and connection to his place. I’ve been thinking about that line lately. Last week, I read a fine essay by Seth Wieck, a writer from the Texas Panhandle, titled “Larry McMurtry and Wendell Berry at the Dairy Queen.” It focuses on the differences and similarities between the recently-departed McMurtry and the 86 year-old Berry. If you are a fan of either author (or both, like me), I encourage you to check out Seth’s essay at FrontPorchRepublic.com. My attempt to briefly summarize it would not do it justice.
As I get older and draw deeper into my life’s apparent purpose of rural revitalization, I find myself drawn more to both McMurtry and Berry. They have different attitudes and different interests, but both are masters of both fiction and nonfiction writing that is inextricably connected to their place—McMurtry with the Rolling Plains of Texas and Berry with the farms, forests, and rivers of northern Kentucky.
The title of Seth’s essay is a reference to McMurtry’s de-facto memoir, “Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen” (which I discussed in my recent tribute to McMurtry). The book title is a reference to McMurtry passing the time at his favorite haunt in Archer City. After reading his essay, I did the only thing I thought was appropriate. I went to lunch and did some reading. “Stegner in the Allsup’s parking lot,” as it were. In case you are wondering, I had a burrito, cheese curds, and a Dr Pepper. It was excellent.
The reading material—Stegner’s essay “The Sense of Place” was also excellent. In it, he admires the Wendell Berry’s connection to his place. Stegner observes that America itself is a constant struggle between place and motion—indeed, he points out that the very idea of America was borne of throwing off the shackles of older places to find new opportunity, away from “old tyrannies, old limitations, galling obligations, bloody memories.”
In a corollary to the famed Stegner quote that opens this essay, Wendell Berry wrote “if you don’t know where you are, you don’t know who you are.” Stegner observes that this is not mere geographic knowledge, but rather true knowledge of a place. This knowledge comes “from working in it in all weathers, making a living from it, suffering from its catastrophes, loving its mornings or evenings or hot noons, valuing it for the profound investment of labor and feeling that you, your parents and grandparents, your all-but-unknown ancestors have put into it.”
Which brings me to another recent subject, Leslie Knope. As I wrote, the fictional star of NBC’s “Parks and Recreation” has remarkable passion for her own place. In the fourth season, there’s an episode called “Born and Raised.” Leslie releases a book called “Pawnee: The Greatest Town in America.” But there’s a problem. Leslie wrote that she was born and raised in Pawnee. A local journalist discovers that, in a fact concealed from Leslie by her mother for her entire life, Leslie was *actually* born in the vile, neighboring city of Eagleton. Pawnee’s citizens and media attack her mercilessly. She starts to question her identity that is wrapped entirely in being from Pawnee. Her boss tells her, “where you were born is a piece of trivia. Where you're from, that’s what makes you who you are. And you are from Pawnee. You're more Pawnee than anyone I know.”
Wendell Berry was born in Henry County, Kentucky, and after a brief sojourn as a young man, he returned in 1965 to the land that he was unquestionably from. Leslie Knope was born in Eagleton, but she was unquestionably from Pawnee. In my own piece of trivia, I was born in Seymour. Despite short periods elsewhere as an infant and a college student, I am from Stamford.
True knowledge of your place—loving it, experiencing its difficulties, suffering with it, fighting for it—helps you truly make that place better. And if Wendell Berry and Leslie Knope have taught me anything, true knowledge of your place also makes you a better person.
James Decker is the Mayor of Stamford, Texas and the creator of the “West of 98” website and forthcoming podcast. Contact James and subscribe to these essays at westof98.substack.com.
Growing up as a military brat, and then marrying into the military, this hits home. I am from nowhere. And everywhere. But I am always *from* Texas. I struggled with that growing up, as I was not born in Texas (but I got there as quick as I could!). My family is from Texas, I went to high school and college in Texas, I call Texas when I call home. But in reality, I have lived outside Texas more of my life than in it at this point. Texas made me who I am – I feel validated!