The Last Word: How did we get here?

While brainstorming a topic for this essay, I was also waiting for a chicken sandwich at a restaurant in Sacramento while watching a white boxer dog through my phone’s camera app. How did I end up here?

I could attribute my path to several decisions I’ve made, but the most likely culprit for my current situation is my liberal arts education from Cornell. Bear with me.

I was born at Mercy Medical Center, a mere 13 miles from Pfeiffer Hall, where, 18 years later, I would inhabit the coed garden level and quickly switch my proposed majors of religion and philosophy to geology and environmental studies (under the tutelage of Garvin, Denniston, Greenstein, and Walsh)—fields that catapulted my wanderlust to far-off exotic lands like New Zealand and Australia. A considerable change of scenery from the rolling cornfields of Iowa.

After graduation my initial pursuits were drawn to the science fields. Though, not surprisingly, I had no clue what I wanted to do with the rest of my life in my early 20s. For that reason I packed my bags, uncorked my liberal arts potential, and tried my hands at other vocations. From teaching to restaurants and even to curating museum displays. My attempts to find happiness in life took me across the United States while connecting with old friends and making new ones. Yet, even as I would fill my emotional cup to the brim with exciting new experiences, some days it still felt empty. As a result, I packed my bags again. And again. And again.

I lived in the woods, in my car, in an RV, and, for a time, out of a storage locker. I traveled and lived abroad in Peru, India, Mongolia, Honduras, Nicaragua, and El Salvador. I bought every airline ticket I could afford to just keep moving. I attempted to shed my connection to this high-energy, capitalistic world because it never felt right to me. Despite all my efforts, even while I was sitting on a tropical beach with no other responsibilities, my cup, yet again, felt empty.

At the height of the pandemic, once more I began packing my bags to figure out what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I was back in California and reconnected with another Cornell alum for a cup of coffee. The butterfly effect of her path from Mount Vernon to that coffee shop included graduate school and even living in Venezuela. Mutually curious, we continued to build a relationship. You see, I wasn’t alone while I was waiting for my chicken sandwich.

Marja Sainio ’06 was next to me, waiting for her pizza, and we have been living together for over two years in Sacramento with a white boxer dog named Tuula. A blossoming relationship, the seeds of which would have never bloomed if we both hadn’t been assigned to live in garden-level Pfeiffer in 2002. My cup is full.

Dustin Waite ’06 lives in Sacramento, California. He’s an environmental scientist with the California Department of Toxic Substances Control. He’s published two travel memoirs, “External” and “Falling in Love with The Process,” that detail his adventures while trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his life.