Our society has been sapped of meaning
I set off last Wednesday on a three-week road trip around the United States. I had high expectations drizzled in nostalgia, since I was repeating a project I’d done exactly nine years before: the idea, then and now, was to talk to people about the American Dream. I was hoping to get a sense of the mood of America ahead of the November election.
In that spirit, my first stop was Scranton, a city in northeast Pennsylvania. The downtown nearing dinner time was empty except for professionals dashing from cubicles to cars, and the destitute hiding in nooks from the lingering heat, emerging only to ask for money, either via long lies or by pleas to my empathy.
My motel, a run-down, squalid place that at $45 a night was still extortionate, was at least social, with the buzz of a long-term residency, which was what it was for everyone there but me. My fellow guests were outside smoking and drinking in the only fresh air and view they had.
