Roots (根, ルーツ, 뿌리)

Recenty Jeopardy selected one of its favorite novels as its Final Jeopardy question- Roots: The Saga of an American Family by Alex Haley, written in 1976, but turned into a famous television miniseries in 1977. I guess it was so good (it achieved bestseller status) as a novel that they moved quickly to make it a TV series. I remember watching it in school as part of our social studies curriculum, maybe the teacher was just giving him or herself a break that week, but I remember the distinct face of Lavarr Burton and the emotional level ramped up to a fever pitch as we saw Kunta Kinte get whipped repeatedly after not responding to the white name he was given, "Toby." I may have blocked out the part where he had his foot cut off to cripple him, maybe I just didn't understand it. Back then the movie didn't make that much sense to me, as I was still lost in "Mighty Ducks" land and getting good grades, I probably only paid attention to make sure I did well on any potential test I would have to take on it. (Little did I know later that more importantly than some high school exam, Roots is part of the daily trivia quiz test, and appears often as the answer to a clue, you always have to have it in the back of your mind. I wish I paid more attention because there were some key details that I only learned upon reading about the book, such as Kunta Kinte's village of Jufureh was set in the Gambia, a small country enclosed all around by Senegal, and Kunta Kinte arrived in the U.S. in Annapolis but eventually wound up in present day Arkansas, and that the African storytellers in the story are called "griots" who can go for long periods of time telling stories about African folklore. "Roots" is important culturally as a reminder to examine where a person come from, learn about one's past and the village and society that one was born in. MJ and I had a "Roots" moment this weekend as we visited North Carolina, where we spent quite a while during the pandemic, so we weren't able to fully enjoy the experience of living in the place before everything shut down, and we were confined to our apartment room and couldn't enjoy the bustling, up-and-coming city that is Durham. Not exactly our "roots" in that we were both in our thirties upon moving there, but it still has quite a few memories for us, and passing by all of those old places of bygone time reminded me of what in many ways was a simpler time, just sitting at home with nothing to do but wait out the pandemic. In some ways it was less stressful back then (although I'll admit wearing masks all the time and wondering when the vaccine would arrive was stress in itself), but now that we're back up to normal there's more pressure every day to go somewhere, the hardest thing to do in a world where everything is open is to decide what to do with oneself. No problems in that department this weekend, as the weather was beautiful and we were just in time for the cherry blossoms to bloom at Sarah P. Duke Garden, aka Central Park aka the Palace of Versailles in the summer time, or at least that's how crowded it was when we arrived Saturday afternoon: felt like the entire population of Durham, NC and possibly some pockets of surrounding Cary, NC and Chapel Hill, NC were there too. I also hung out around the libraries which are open to the public, with a Gothic Reading Room straight out of Harry Potter novels and a Duke Chapel that stands like a beacon in the center of campus. It's there, standing in some world class facilities, where you realize how nice some private universities have it and where they're getting that funding from to build all those nice things (hint: tuition dollars), but I do wish every college-age kid was able to spend at least a year or two at college, just to feel that feeling of freedom, opportunity, meeting new friends, and living on your own for the first time, in a beautiful college town. Not all eighteen-year-olds are able to do that, which begs the question whether college should be free (paradoxically, if they were free, they wouldn't be that nice). When I was eighteen I actually got accepted to Duke University, but financial reasons and logisticial issues prompted me to stay at the in-state school Illinois, which definitely wasn't a bad decision, but I do wonder what my experience would have been like as an undergrad. Alas, the closest I would get to being a Duke Blue Devil this weekend was sitting in the student union and undergrad library, watching kids group up to study for midterms. Let them establish their roots! In 20 years they could go back and revisit and reminisce about those days.