Lost in America: A Dead-End Journey

by Colby Buzzell

  My mother passed in March, and so in May, for Mother’s Day, I visited her grave site. I went by myself, and since she liked flowers, I had some with me. I never really noticed or paid any attention to flowers at all until after she passed away. Now I can’t help but notice them every time I see them. When I was going through old photos of her, they all seemed to include flowers. I had some roses with me, which I stuck into the ground above her grave, along with a Mother’s Day card.

  I hung out at the cemetery for a while. Several others were there that day as well. I talked to my mother for what felt like the first time ever, and while thinking how much has changed since the last Mother’s Day, I got depressed, really depressed. The Mother’s Day before this she was fine, in great health. She had just run Bay to Breakers for the first time, and with no preparation beforehand, finishing the race by repeating the mantra, “If he can do it, and she can do it, then why not me?”

  Months later, weak, her hair nearly completely gone from chemo, assisted by a cane and my father, she’d get up on the elliptical machine at the gym. Just as she had done every morning for years, it was her daily routine, she’d stay on that machine until her thirty minutes was up, putting forth her best effort, not once letting the cancer defeat her, disregarding the flashing “Pause” and “Pedal Faster” messages.

  That fight-to-the-death spirit and “If he can do it, and she can do it, then why not me” confidence—something I’ve never had—is something I want my son to have. I wanted to pass it on to him by doing what my mother did, leading by example.

  She never smoked and hardly ever drank, maybe once or twice during the holidays, but never more than a glass or two of wine. Except for that one time in Cancún on the Club Med vacation with my father when she got ripped on the free booze.

  I don’t know how I did this, especially when my father called me several times in advance to remind me, but I forgot Mother’s Day the year before she died. It completely slipped my mind. I didn’t even know that Mother’s Day had passed until the day after, when my father called me up to inform me that I had fucked that one up, how I should have sent flowers, a card, something, even calling and talking to her would have been nice. I remember just saying sorry, and how I would remember next Mother’s Day.

  So there I was, visiting my mother, flowers and card on the day I remembered. I slowly walked back to BART, where I stared out the window on my way back home. Once the train moved underground, everything turned black and I was able to see my reflection in the window; I looked away.

  My mother always reminded me to smile; she never felt I smiled enough. This is one of the things I’ve learned to do a lot of after losing my mother, especially after my son was born. When he was born, I saw how my wife was with him, how excited our families were to be with him. For my family, unspoken sadness in the absence of my mother. Thinking of her, I understand now; I want my son to smile, I want him to be happy.

  I don’t ever recall a night spent in New York City where I didn’t end it totally wasted, but tonight I just didn’t feel like doing that. My thoughts dwelled heavily on the fact that you can never go back home again, but, more optimistically, you can build a new home, that things are never really that bad. Yes, they could always be worse, but we get through it. People are resilient, good things happen.

  Instead of going back inside the bar, I flicked my cigarette out. Then I started walking.

  Heading back home, my carry-on filled with cold-cut sandwiches taken from the green room, I sat in my seat, thinking about home, and what it meant to me at this point. The airline stewardess came around and asked me whether I’d like a drink. I thought about it, and told her no.

  “I’m fine, thank you.” And I smiled.

  Acknowledgments

  Julia Barrett

  Tyler Cabot

  Isaac Callahan

  Julia Cheiffetz

  David Granger

  Peter Hansen

  The Harringtons

  Mother of my child

  My family

  Cesar M. Ramos

  Katie Salisbury

  Heather Schroder

  Nicole Tourtelot

  Mark Warren

  Everybody else who helped out and made this happen.

  About the Author

  COLBY BUZZELL is the author of My War: Killing Time in Iraq and served as an infantryman in the United States Army during the Iraq War. Assigned to a Stryker Brigade Combat Team in 2003, Buzzell blogged from the front lines of Iraq as a replacement for his habitual journaling back in the States. In 2004 Buzzell was profiled in Esquire’s “Best and Brightest” issue and has since contributed frequently to the magazine. The Washington Post referred to his article, “Digging a Hole All the Way to America” as “A Tour de Force Travelogue” and in 2010 his article “Down & Out In Fresno and San Francisco” was selected for The Best American Travel Writing 2010. His work has also appeared in the San Francisco Chronicle and on This American Life. He currently lives in San Francisco, California, and has no plans whatsoever of staying there.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

  Also by Colby Buzzell

  My War: Killing Time in Iraq

  Credits

  Cover photograph © Sebastian Sashse

  Cover design by Jarrod Taylor

  Copyright

  LOST IN AMERICA. Copyright © 2011 by Colby Buzzell. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  FIRST EDITION

  EPub Edition SEPTEMBER 2011 ISBN: 9780062097095

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Buzzell, Colby.

  Lost in America : a dead-end journey / by Colby Buzzell.—1st ed.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-0-06-184135-4 (hardback) 1. Buzzell, Colby—Travel—United States. 2. United States—Description and travel. 3. United States—Social conditions—21st century. 4. Iraq War, 2003—Veterans—United States—Biography. 5. Men—Identity. 6. Fatherhood—Psychological aspects. I. Title.

  E169.Z83B89 2011

  956.7044'3—dc22

  2011012889

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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  Footnote

  * Which will eventually be the case since they recently announced that they will be closing their doors.