by Tim Komatsu ('15)
My fellow Americans, I have shocking news for you. After much careful deliberation, I have come to the terrifying conclusion that Robert Frost, American Poet Laureate and Pulitzer Prize winner, wants you to be eaten by a bear. Consider his poem “The Road Not Taken” which ends “Two roads diverge in a yellow wood, and I/I took the one less traveled by/and that has made all the difference”. If that doesn’t send a chill up your spine you better get yourself examined by a medical professional. Let’s examine possible reasons a road is less traveled by: It doesn’t lead anywhere, it leads to a bunch of bears, laying in wait for an idealistic youth, or some even worse possibility. When you are trying to get somewhere, you don’t throw the map out the window and hope that you’ll eventually get to the location! You use one of the incredibly specific and satellite guided devices you own to get to the location so that you can appreciate the beauty of nature for a long enough period of time to feel “outdoorsy” before hitting up the White Castle.
So why does Frost want us to take the road that no one else goes by? Buried treasure? Please, Frost, we’re smart enough to know that all pirates avoid wooded areas for fear of running into their natural enemy, the mischievous beaver. Adventure? I’ll rent “Rescuers Down Under” if I want an adventure, thank you very much. Introspection? C’mon Bobby. I hung up my beret and Charles Mingus records back in 2008. So what is the real reason that this “rugged” New Englander wants us wandering off into itchiness and general confusion? Simple. He wants us to be eaten by a bear. Now, unfortunately, I can’t think of a reason that he would want this…except for the fact that a surplus in hikers disappearing in the woods might lead to an increased level of mystique surrounding the great outdoors and therefore more opportunity for poetry. I’m onto you, Frost.
My fellow Americans, I have shocking news for you. After much careful deliberation, I have come to the terrifying conclusion that Robert Frost, American Poet Laureate and Pulitzer Prize winner, wants you to be eaten by a bear. Consider his poem “The Road Not Taken” which ends “Two roads diverge in a yellow wood, and I/I took the one less traveled by/and that has made all the difference”. If that doesn’t send a chill up your spine you better get yourself examined by a medical professional. Let’s examine possible reasons a road is less traveled by: It doesn’t lead anywhere, it leads to a bunch of bears, laying in wait for an idealistic youth, or some even worse possibility. When you are trying to get somewhere, you don’t throw the map out the window and hope that you’ll eventually get to the location! You use one of the incredibly specific and satellite guided devices you own to get to the location so that you can appreciate the beauty of nature for a long enough period of time to feel “outdoorsy” before hitting up the White Castle.
So why does Frost want us to take the road that no one else goes by? Buried treasure? Please, Frost, we’re smart enough to know that all pirates avoid wooded areas for fear of running into their natural enemy, the mischievous beaver. Adventure? I’ll rent “Rescuers Down Under” if I want an adventure, thank you very much. Introspection? C’mon Bobby. I hung up my beret and Charles Mingus records back in 2008. So what is the real reason that this “rugged” New Englander wants us wandering off into itchiness and general confusion? Simple. He wants us to be eaten by a bear. Now, unfortunately, I can’t think of a reason that he would want this…except for the fact that a surplus in hikers disappearing in the woods might lead to an increased level of mystique surrounding the great outdoors and therefore more opportunity for poetry. I’m onto you, Frost.
Now I know what you are probably thinking: “Silly Tim, this poem is an allegory for the sublime beauty in taking risks, and how even seemingly unimportant decisions can have a resounding affect in your life.” To you, I simply say, I know. But here’s the thing: the Frost conspiracy doesn’t stop at the literal dangers of following him into the dark, poison ivy and Goldilocks-esq filled nightmare that is a forest. Think of it this way: what risky decision has ever actually paid off for you? I remember one moment when I was faced with a metaphorical fork in the road of my life. In the ninth grade I had long pined for a close female friend of mine. One night she posed a seemingly simple question: “Do you think we should maybe go out?” In that moment I saw two possible futures and “looked down one as far as I could/to where it bent in the undergrowth”. I saw the possibility of heartache, painful and raw and enough to scar me emotionally, given the amount of affection I felt for her. Then the other, simply letting go of the amorous feelings and moving on, avoiding any chance of heartache. I chose the smart option, and simply let go of my affection. To this day, I never wonder what a life with her might have been like, or what she’s doing with herself now or if she ever thinks of me. Because I was smart. I took the road more traveled and arrived at my destination on time.
Now all I ask from you, dear reader, is one thing: I ask you to think about why you are at college. Is it to interact with friends and make memories and participate in extracurriculars and all that other useless junk? Or are you here to go to class, graduate on time, go into the workforce and tell your kids with a sigh how you were faced with tough decisions and made safe choices and how you now live in a comfortably average life and never burden yourself with lofty goals and how that has made all the difference? I know my answer.