EDITOR’SNOTE
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ADAM PITLUK
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Owl
Eyes
THERE’SAHOUSE
on Chautauqua Lake in the
southwestern corner of NewYork state that is of
verymodest presentation. The lake, on theother
hand, is quite striking. Gentle ripples on deep
bluewater set the pastoral scene of a rural New
Yorkhaven, a countrybackdrop that isdecidedly
American.
For there, set among the500-year-oldmaple
and oak andwillow trees, and in and around the
generations of houses, is a truebastionofAmeri-
cana. Chautauqua Lake has served as an artistic
and literarymuse since the 18th century and, on
amore contemporary level, served
as my childhoodmuse once upon
a summer.
Chautauqua
, a Seneca Indian
word that translates to “bag tied in
the middle,” is a natural lake that
is 17miles long and twomileswide.
The area was settled in the 1700s,
and there are several houses from
the late 18thandearly 19thcenturies
that still back up to the lake. There
are also more than a few stately
Victorianmansions, aswell as those
constructed in the Victorian style.
But there’s a house onChautauqua
Gatsbywasutterlyunhappy,becausewhilehehad
everything aman couldwant, his love for Daisy
Buchananwasa loveunrequited.Andhe lovedher
with such passion— his desire for her was such
that hemoved toWest Egg, just across the lake
from her on East Egg, so he could be close. He
threw lavish parties that were open to everyone
but thatheseldomattended.Yethe threw them in
hopes that she’dhear themusic, hear the laughter,
see the lights, andattend.He threw themwith the
hope that his love from yesteryear would come
back tohim, as itwere.
But she couldn’t. So Gatsby didwhat every
13-year-old boy can relate to: He stayed up until
theweehoursandobserved themysteriousgreen
light on theendof her dock fromafar. Thegreen
light cathartically comfortedhimbecause to see
itwas toknow shewas close.
This issue of
AmericanWay
has a recurring
theme: longing. A longing for speakingoutwhile
inpursuit of silence (page 52); a longing for dan-
gerousspeeds inacivilizedsetting (page34); and
a longing tohavesomeoneadvocate foryouwhen
youneed them to themost (page40).
It’s springtime on Chautauqua Lake, and
crowds are descending in droves. Here in Texas,
I’m now a 36-year-oldmanwho’s been together
with his Daisy Buchanan for a decade and a half.
And yet I can still empathize with the 13-year-
old kids on Chautauqua Lake, trying to extract
a semblance of enjoyment on the water while
reachingout in the dark to their ownmysterious
green lights.
Lake that isof verymodest presentation, yet it is
of tremendous significance tome.
The house is a classic 1950s bungalowwith
gray siding and large baywindows, which allow
untrammeled views of the lake but whose tint
thwartsanyattempts to look inside.Fromafar, the
houseonBemusPoint isof thegardenvariety, sit-
tingonagrassyknoll surroundedbygiantmaple
trees. It is neither striking nor significant, and its
wooden dock is weather-beaten andworn. But
themysterious green light that beat like a heart
against thecool eveningcalm leftmepacifiedon
theonehand, and longingon theother.
Culled from a long-ago memory and with
a nod to some sort of cosmic serendipity, that
house,which I only sawone timeonone summer
night from aboard a boat in 1989— and only for
a fewbriefminutes— iswhat I instantly thought
about when I read our cover story on Isla Fisher
(page44). I loveheracting, and I’m fascinatedby
hermarriage tooneofmy favorite actors, Sacha
Baron Cohen. But this cover story immediately
took me back in time to an August night on
Chautauqua Lake in 1989. That’s because Fisher
is about to play one of themore tormented and
tragic characters inAmerican literature— that of
MyrtleWilson in
TheGreatGatsby
.
Longbefore I couldunderstand thesymbolism
and subtle commentary author F. Scott Fitzger-
ald intended with his timely allegory of 1920s
America, there was
The Great Gatsby
, the love
story that I was assigned to read that summer.
As a 13-year-oldon that boat, just learningabout
girlsand feelingawkwardand intimidatedaround
them—andhavingmy first crushonagirl at the
same time— I could relate to literature’sgreatJay
Gatsbybetter thananyoneelse inmyworld.Here
was Gatsby, a farmboy from rural NorthDakota
whowentoff to fight inWorldWar I andwhowas
the quintessential self-mademan— Fitzgerald’s
living embodiment of the American Dream. But
THEEYESHAVE IT:
Theeyesof Eckleburgareuponyou.
10
MAY 01, 2013
AA.COM/AMERICANWAY
