Station Eleven: A Reflection

By: Travis Naughton

I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly materialistic person. I didn’t own an iPod. Never wore a Swatch watch or a pair of Guess jeans. The only jewelry I own is my wedding ring. I still drive a rusty, old pickup truck with a carbureted gas engine, a manual transmission, manual locks, manual windows, manual steering, manual brakes, no radio, and no air conditioning. Nevertheless, I have grown accustomed to having some creature comforts in my life, such as the rust-free, newer pickup truck that I also drive; the one with a fuel-injected turbo-diesel engine, an automatic transmission, power locks, power windows, power steering, power brakes, power seats, power mirrors, Bluetooth and satellite radio, and ice-cold, dual-zone air conditioning. Come to think of it, as I look around my house, I can see that I have grown dependent on more than a few modern conveniences. The laptop computer I’m typing this story on, the iPhone beside me, the TV in front of me, the refrigerator, microwave, air fryer, coffee maker, and oven in the kitchen. Electricity. Indoor plumbing. Flush toilets. The internet. A new central heat and AC unit that cost more than four out of the five vehicles in my family’s fleet. I suppose I might be slightly materialistic. I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly trendy person either. Sometimes I’m a little “late to the game” as they say. Last Friday, for instance, I finally sat down to read the dystopian novel “Station Eleven” by Emily St. John Mandel. This extraordinary book was so popular that it won the Arthur C. Clark Award and became the Daniel Boone Regional Library’s “One Read” book back in 2015.

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