He said...
Nerds.
Let’s start with something you may have guessed already.
I am one.
I’ve been a nerd since long before the term had any
positive connotations. Now it’s OK to be
nerdy and still be considered a little cool.
But back in the day most of us nerds spent our days railing in fury at
the film “Revenge of the Nerds” because we knew that the promised
hot-but-understanding-sorority-girlfriend was but a cruel carrot dangled before
us by evil Hollywood scriptwriters.
But I digress.
The word brings to mind an entire range of assumed
personality traits, doesn’t it? Here are
a few of my favorites.
-Social unease
-Love of science fiction and fantasy
-General Smarty-ness.
-Can construct/program/repair computers with nothing more
than chewing gum and tinfoil.
Well, OK. Most of
those are true to some degree. (Although
in my particular case trusting me with PC repair is a dangerous gamble) But
there’s really one defining characteristic that I’ve noticed in most of my
nerdy brethren.
Want to know what it is?
We’re Packrats.
Collectors.
Connoisseurs of Pop Culture.
I know very few nerds who don’t collect SOMETHING. If not multiple somethings. Books are a common one. We LOVE the written page. Probably because for a long time it was our
escape from a world that we felt never really got us. And vice versa. But we’ll collect anything: Cards, action figures, autographs, you name
it, there’s probably someone out there with whatever it is safely stored away
in boxes and archival quality bags. I
don’t know who runs that particular industry, but they owe us BIG.
Like those of my particular ilk, I have my collections as
well. My assortment of comic books has
long threatened to take on a life of its own and force me to charge it
rent. But I was content with my life of
simple pleasures and the weekly pilgrimage to the FLCS (Friendly Local Comic
Store for those unschooled in the local lingo).
Then the most unbelievably unlikely thing happened to me.
I met a girl.
Amy, although what my best friend describes as
nerd-friendly, is most definitely NOT a nerd.
She’s mostly
tolerant of my comic collection but thinks it could stand to go on a diet.
My collection of oddball t-shirts left her somewhat
baffled and resulted in several epic battles regarding my general state of
dress. (Three guesses who won).
She’s opinionated,
takes no prisoners and usually leaves me in a state of constant bafflement as
to how the species survived.
But despite the
tornado of chaos that she brought into my hermetic life, she’s the best thing
that’s happened to me in a long time.
She’s also much more of a spur-of-the-moment type of
person than I am. So after a long,
exhausting trip to visit her folks in Pennsylvania, she decided that we needed
to stop at a local Maryland winery.
“I’ve always wanted to and never been.” She gave as her explanation.
Now up until that point my experience with wine was
limited to the occasional glass with dinner at my folks’ house and a tasting in
Yountville, CA when my brother lived just outside of San Francisco. And a bottle of Chateau Latour 1953 I
inherited from my grandmother when she died.
To this day I don’t know if what I’ve got is an impressive bottle of
vinegar. I just thought it was a good
way to sound cool. “Oh, well, I’VE got a
bottle of Chateau BLAHBLAH! FEEL THE
CLASS RADIATE OFF OF ME!”
The many dates I was hoping this would get me never
really did materialize.
Go figure.
I didn’t DISLIKE wine.
I just didn’t GET it.
How does an entire world-wide culture revolve over what
was essentially grape juice gone bad?
What was the big deal? These
pretentious looking people standing at a bar, taking little bitty sips,
swishing it around like expensive Listerine and then spitting it out? The last time I did that my mom sent me to my
room for playing with my food!
But hey, I needed a break from driving and it didn’t
sound like a terrible idea.
“OK.” I said noncommittally.
Yep, the king of romance.
That’s me.
The wine was pretty good all things considered. I even tried doing what I saw everyone else
doing. Sniffing the wine, swirling it
around in the glass, knowing from an intellectual reason why I was doing it but
not really feeling it.
But it was a very nice way to break up the trip.
Most wineries are set in beautiful, pastoral settings and
its really hard to be annoyed in one. So
when one is needing a break from the butt-crushing experience of a long car
ride, a winery can be a very nice stop.
So I didn’t really think much about the experience until
several weekends later Amy decided we needed to try some more. Maryland is filled with a great many wineries
and some were fairly close by. So, being
the king of romance, I grunted non-comittally and agreed.
Again, nice setting, perfect weather for a drive in the
country, decent wine, so far so good.
Then, I discovered something that I had not been aware
of.
Some wineries let you keep the tasting glass.
NERD GENES, ACTIVATE!
My collectoral compulsions kicked into overdrive! We could go around the countryside, enjoy
each other’s company AND have something new to collect?
All of the sudden this made sense! To me anyway.
Before Amy knew what had hit her, I was the one
suggesting winery trips. Sometimes to
the exclusion of all else. Suggestions
to go to a winery instead of getting groceries are why she can cock one eyebrow
in frustration.
It really is a miracle she puts up with me.
But being the indulgent type (usually) she agreed and we
started to experience what the local wine culture had to offer. And then the strangest thing happened.
I started to get it!
Let me be clear, I still don’t completely understand
everything about wine. But I began to
notice subtle differences in taste and aroma.
I began to feel this simple-yet-complex strange chemical concoction’s
universal appeal. So I made a
decision. One that I’m sure Amy regrets
encouraging in me.
I decided to learn.
Then she said...
Escape:
For me, wine is about escape. I remember my first experience. While I would
like to say I appreciated its nuance and complexity with the verve of a
cosmopolitan, expressing herself with sharp wit and innovation, I think the
memory that remains, over 15 years ago, is simply that I felt transported. I didn’t immediately have an affinity for the
dry, red wine I was offered but figured it was an acquired taste. I kept sipping politely, hoping for a quick
acculturation. Instead, while the taste never fully registered as anything but
slightly unpleasant, a languid, warm feeling began to spread from my middle to
the edges of my fingers and into the knots of my back. The tension and anxiety
that generally lingers on the surface and in the atmosphere surrounding me,
felt released. I was free and…floating. I felt connected—connected to things I
hadn’t paid close attention too in a while—to fingertips on glasses, to
high-pitched words, to the cadence and rhythms of jazz notes in the air, to
sighs and to soft words…to breath all around me.
While the memory of that feeling stayed with me and
encouraged further forays into the vine culture, it was a long time before I
began to relate to it in any other way than through what that first
metaphysical escape had offered. I found that writing papers, dinner parties,
bubble baths, and first dates, were much better with the alchemy wine
offered. But, I never really considered
the experience of taste. I figured that sweet wine was the way to go. The more sugar the better. That way the unpleasant sensation that
accompanied the pleasant one could be avoided altogether.
Then, the movie Sideways (2004) happened. For those of
you not familiar with this movie, it’s mostly about friendships and what
connects us to people over the long term.
And, the central metaphor of the movie is about wine and how humans are
much like a well-made vintage, growing and eventually peaking over many years
of life experiences. One speech from the
female lead that made an imprint on me is copied here:
“I like to think about what was going on the year the
grapes were growing; how the sun was shining; if it rained. I like to think
about all the people who tended and picked the grapes. And if it’s an old wine,
how many of them must be dead by now. I like how wine continues to evolve, like
if I opened a bottle of wine today it would taste different than if I’d opened
it on any other day, because a bottle of wine is actually alive. And it’s
constantly evolving and gaining complexity.”—Maya in Sideways
I remember hearing these words and feeling a sense of
excitement. It was like a hidden world opening its door to me, inviting me to
come in and experience all its wonders, like finding the wardrobe and the
lamppost that beckoned one into Narnia. How had I missed it before? To think
that wine could taste differently, depending on the day and year—that it’s
juice was always alive and maturing and changing—that it had a life to unfold
and to discover and that other people touched it and manipulated it—people who
I would never see but who passed through my life by the very fact that I had
bought a bottle of their wine and imbibed their work, their art.
I began to approach the experience of wine
differently. Before, it had been with a
desire to escape the pressures of nervous energy but now I wanted to escape
into the lives and worlds of other people and places and times. I wanted to vicariously experience the grapes
of other landscapes and the hands that picked them and the accompanying
seasons, the hopes, the alchemy of ingredients and infusions…I was on a
mission.
Dinner parties were an excuse to imbibe more knowledge,
to dry different kinds, to understand their ranges…to see if I could identify
oaks, blackberries, cherries, currants, vanillas, citruses, hibiscus flowers.
What tasted smooth and what didn’t? What were tannins and what made one vintage
more desirable than another? Then, there were pairings. What particular wines brought out flavors in
meats and fishes and which varieties paired better with cheese and pastas? And,
what kinds were better served as a sweet aperitif, alone and at the close of a
good meal or a good conversation? The explorations and the escapes were
endless.
I went to wineries and to wine parties and to wine
stores. But, after a while, while my
passion for learning and experiencing did not diminish, two things happened. I
found myself single and starting graduate school, both for the second
time. Single people, I found, can
sometimes have a difficult time going to a winery and casually approaching the
counter for a “tasting…for…um…one.” Also, grad school budget is limiting. I had
to curb my enthusiasm for the more expensive vino. The spontaneity of a $35
dollar bottle of wine or higher had to be measured against the need for gas and
groceries for the week. Instead, I had to compress what I knew about wine into
affordable selections that would satisfy. I put my passion on hold, deciding
that I had other explorations to embark on—this time anthropology. And while this one would not be forgotten, it
would definitely be on hiatus for a while.
Several years later, John entered my life. He came
definitely when most needed, like the wind that gently shakes the leaves from
the branches in fall time. I had spent
several years, first with a masters and then en route to a PhD, on a tight
budget, tight schedule, tight work time, etc. that, while I had learned a lot
about other parts of the world and myself included, I had forgotten to connect
with my more sensual side. I had missed the nuances that used to sing to me on
a daily basis. Words and ideas and deadlines had totally circumscribed my
existence, and John brought me back to my wardrobe and lamppost. I began to see
the magic of the day again--through long dinners and experimenting with new
foods, through walks and talks and hands held through the evenings that turned
into mornings, through early sunrise lattes and drives to nowhere
and…everywhere.
It was then that I remembered wine and all that it could
offer and I wanted to share it with the person who had reawakened my senses. He
may be all about the glass, which makes me smile, but he also is all about
me…which, like a good bottle of wine, makes one forget, forge things like the
stress on the body, about the negative pieces of the day, and instead focus on
the positive, the magical moments. It
also made me want to reorganize and categorize and re-experience my world, much
like the classifying and reclassifying of many wines, to include this love that
is happening to me and to expand the parameters of my living – so that one day
I too will peak with all my memories and moments, like a good bottle of wine –
at least I hope so. For now, I’m
enjoying the escape and the exploration and the learning about wine differently
than before. Now, I’m looking for what
is similar and different in our palates, and while I still cock my eyebrow in
frustration occasionally when he decides he likes a sweet wine better than a
dry, smooth one, I try to see it from his perspective and that’s another
adventure altogether….
By the way, keep in mind that everything you read here is JUST OUR OPINION. We're not experts. Take it for what its worth. :)
