From Webster's:
luxury, noun (lux·u·ry \ˈlək-sh(ə-)rē, -zh(ə-)rē): a condition or situation of great comfort, ease, or wealth; something that is expensive and not necessary; something that is helpful or welcome and is not usually or always available.
People have varying degrees of how we measure luxury. Much of the world views things like refrigeration and ice as luxurious. Some things are indisputably luxuries, like a high-end Italian sports car, a boutique Swiss watch with several complications, a hundred foot sail yacht, or a bottle of single malt whiskey older than I am.
Most of us here in the great United States of America, and indeed the Western world, are fortunate enough in that we view running (and hot) water, electricity, refrigeration, a reliable automobile, paved roads, etc as essential items, meaning we take them for granted. I sure as hell do, anyway. Not that I'm not thankful, it's just that I am by most standards fairly spoiled. I say this with only self awareness, not with guilt or as an apology.
It occurs to me, however, that we in the western US have a luxury that is extremely uncommon in the world, and that is our wealth of lands and waters, both public and private.
Public land is an interesting one and only loosely fits the definition of luxury, for though it is instantly and freely accessed by those who live in the area, it remains nonetheless practically inaccessible even to most residents of this country, at least without great expense. In other words, we here in the wild west take it somewhat for granted, even though most of us do greatly appreciate how lucky we are. I won't get into it too much right now, but please do some research about the pending sale of many federal and state lands across the western United States, and help fight back with organizations like Backcountry Hunters and Anglers.
That said, private land and private water is truly luxurious beyond words. The ability to strictly control your human interactions, the ability to hunt or fish without even considering running into another human, the choice of genuine solitude - these are the options granted when you have your own private space. This evening, I hooked a brown trout the size of my torso, and beached a couple of smaller ones. After that, I changed into pjs, switched out a couple parts in my Glock 20, and walked literally out the front door to test it for function with the suppressor (for elk hunting, of course). Obviously, it's not all fun and games up here, as the maintenance and upkeep are a part-time job at the very least - fortunately, it's a fairly simple thing to barter fishing access and whiskey for fence building labor (thanks again guys!).
Again, everyone has their own standard of luxury. The insanely wealthy view things like a house in the French Riviera as a necessity, while the truly destitute view a fresh, hot meal as a luxury. I am neither. To me, the true definition of luxury is that of the privacy granted by having one's own space, and it is a luxury that I am fortunate enough to have at the crank of the starter in my truck.
Time for bed. Tomorrow morning will consist of hauling huge brown trout out on big, ugly streamers, followed by a day of [over]building a barbed wire fence to keep the neighbor's horses from crapping all over our trout stream.
Side note, can it be November 9th yet? I am completely over the wild political shitstorm. Luckily, I take some solace (a quantum?) in knowing that we are fucked either way.
Cheers!
