Hindsight: 2020 — Brian Hastert

Hindsight is 2020

What I can see more clearly now, looking back, is that last year was tumultuous and I mostly enjoyed it very much.

There was a collision of certainty and uncertainty. In January I confidently resigned my professorship at Pace in order to relocate to LA - while having literally no idea what I would do afterward. I slow-rolled the announcement to more people over the next several months. My students were among the last groups I told, and it was the conversation I was most nervous to have. I should not have been surprised at the level of support and encouragement they met me with. I am still quite moved when I think about it.

The following paragraph contains a gruesome detail near the end. Feel free to skip it.

I took a trip to visit LA for a week in March. My first morning in town I was walking to a yoga class (to maximize my feeling of being in LA) and instead found myself jumping a seven foot wooden fence to help an elderly woman out of a burning house. She did not speak much English and may have been a little senile. When I asked her if anyone else was in the house and she said something about the “little ones” – I went on high alert. I went into the bedroom and bathroom area where the smoke was heaviest, yelling to whoever else may have been inside. It did not occur to me that she may have been talking about the two dogs that I had already safely escorted outside. The older woman came back inside twice and each time I escorted her back to the driveway. I ended up foregoing yoga entirely that morning in favor of speaking with a number of firefighters, police officers, and police detectives. I gleaned snippets of the situation from them until Detective Michelle Santillan finally told me the grizzly cause of the fire. A woman’s corpse had been found inside, burnt beyond recognition in the bathtub. I had been in that bathroom mere moments ago, I just hadn’t looked down. The death was later ruled a suicide. Det. Santillan finished recounting to me what they found and began walking away down the sidewalk. After a few steps, she stopped, turned her head and spoke over her shoulder, “Welcome to California”, then carried on.

I walked away from that morning with the feeling of being quite fortunate to have been in the right place at the right time to help that woman and her dogs out of that smoke filled house. It turned out to be a year of realizing I was in the right place after all.

Perhaps the single most fortunate place and time I was during the year happened on the same trip to southern California. I got to visit my stepfather, Joe Augustine, at his home in Hemet, CA. I had seen him only a few months before, but his illness had progressed significantly since then. We played pool at the nearby rec center. He sank the cleanest shot of the game. We had played many a game of pool since he came into my life in 2003, but this would be our last. He passed away about a week later, at home, surrounded by family.

At the end of March I was gifted a weekend trip to Washington DC to see the cherry blossoms. Climate change has made it difficult to predict when the cherry blossoms will bloom in recent years, but June, who planned the trip months ago (we’ll call her June because June is, in fact, her real name), was right on the money. I have become a swooning admirer of flowers in recent years, and to see the tidal basin completely surrounded by cherry blossoms in peak bloom was a vision I’ll carry with me for life.

A few weeks later, back in Brooklyn, I competed in my first ever power lifting competition. I wore a singlet, turned shades of red that would shame a ripe tomato, and went 9 for 9 on my lifts, setting personal records in the back squat (375 lbs), the bench press (248 lbs), and the deadlift (385 lbs). I could not lift that much today, eight months later, if my life depended on it.

I wrapped up my six years at Pace University’s FTVC program in May. The graduating class put on the most incredible showcase yet, and it was clear as I stood at my exit that the program was the strongest it had been since it’s inception in 2013 and was poised with the right students, faculty, and leadership, to continue to grow into a national force.

In June I flew back to my hometown, Lincoln, Nebraska, which lies at the halfway point between New York City and Los Angeles. I acquired my first automobile since my senior year of high school, and proceeded to road trip my way through the other half of the country. I took the scenic route visiting Yellowstone, Grand Teton, Crater Lake, Yosemite, Sequoia, King’s Canyon, and Joshua Tree National Parks. An old friend saw my travels on Instagram, reached out, and offered me a place to stay in central Oregon and a chance to see The Roots live in concert, who happened to be playing while I was passing through. What fortunate timing.

The Roots were amazing.

Sunrise in my rearview mirror as I head west

I arrived in Los Angeles in midsummer, found a cute apartment to move into by August, and began exploring my new neighborhood.

… for a few days. Because in early September I flew back to New York where I went to work on a new play, working with a director I have long respected and admired. It was my first play in nearly two years, and it felt great to be back.

While in New York I wound up attending a fancy event on short notice, alone and underdressed. A kind attendee, a gender equality activist from Nairobi, rescued me by beginning a conversation. Upon discovering I had never been to Kenya, she invited me to stay with her if and when I should go. A few weeks later I messaged her to ask if that offer was still valid, or if she had second thoughts about inviting a total stranger from America to stay in her home. The offer was still valid. I bought a ticket, and two weeks later I was taking my first steps on the continent of Africa. I saw gorgeous animals, met amazing people, and marveled at how much tastier the average Kenyan banana is than the bland American one.

Other notable moments from last year:

For the first time since I was in high school I got to spend both of my parents’ birthdays with them.

I wrote my first pilot.

I watched a bunch of my students make their television and feature film debuts.

I bought an instant pot.

I met my hero, Weird Al Yankovic.

It felt like an insane whirlwind while it was all happening, but in retrospect it all seems perfectly clear. I anticipate this year being at least as tumultuous as the recently ended one; my goal is to enjoy while it’s happening instead of waiting until it’s over and safe. I hope 2020 grants us all unclouded vision.