I Have the High Ground

I never stand my ground. I stand slightly above it.

Porches. There’s nothing quite like gazing down at the world from an elevation of thirty-six to forty-two inches. To the untrained eye, porches might seem pointless. You don’t need one to make a house a home, mainly because houses and homes are almost exactly the same thing and anyone who says otherwise can fight me. The only difference is that a home is the house you settle for when you realize HGTV is a lie. I live in a house with a huge wrap-around porch that’s the envy of the Property Brothers demographic, but it also appeals to a considerably more lowbrow crowd. When my brother Mitchell first saw my porch, he noted with awe that it would be a great place to drink. He then told the tale of how he and his pledge brothers used to drink on the porch of their frat. That’s it. That was the whole story. Presumably, getting drunk wouldn’t have been quite as fun at ground level. All other activities on a porch have a similar mystique, and I don’t get it. Maybe writing this newsletter will help me understand.

Life is all about context. Take something boring and do it someplace more expensive, and suddenly it’s an Instagram-worthy experience. That’s why cruises are so popular.