One night, while working my late-night shift at the copy desk, I came across the Dear Abby column. A 25-year-old had submitted asking about her problems with nostalgia. When one dwells in the past, going to remembered places and seeing old friends all in an attempt to resurrect an idealized past. You can’t quite seem to enjoy the moment without bleakly knowing past times were better, until it’s been a year and you’re looking on all those moments when you were feeling nostalgic and feeling nostalgic about them, too, even though you probably weren’t as delightful as you think they were.
I am especially prone to languishing in the past, weak that I must nurse upon the sweet nipple of nostalgia’s teat long after I should have been weened. I play The Legend of Zelda, I visit my old college campus, I visit my parents’ house — but there has been no time this year I have realized nostalgia more strongly than during the family trip to Allegheny State Park.