A character in my new favorite book, Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie muses out loud, “When I started in real estate, I considered renovating old houses instead of tearing them down, but it didn’t make sense. Nigerians don’t buy houses because they’re old . . . But of course it makes sense because we are Third Worlders and Third Worlders are forward-looking, we like things to be new, because our best is still ahead, while in the West their best is already past and so they have to make a fetish of that past.” I stopped reading momentarily to ponder the possible truth inherent in this line. As Westerners, are we fixated on our past because it’s indeed our best? Linger here with me for a bit . . . there are admissions that the high fidelity sounds of a vinyl record are more layered; audiophiles insist it is better. On-line services are popping up every where to print the grainy nostalgic images of Instagram; an all-together return to the likes of film which demanded printing. Books and collectible magazines are making comebacks with glorious full color printing and luscious paper stock. Kinfolk magazine features making meals for small personal gatherings in our homes and in the great outdoors rather than a trendy foodie hangout. A reconditioned Corona or Remington typewriter can sell for the price of a new smart phone. Items from our past are a fetish. Is this a passing trend or indeed a cultural marker of the West’s admiration for the vintage, restored, renovated, and obsolete? Or perhaps we’re trying to grow up, and like a young adult newly minted, we often revert back in challenging times to the comforts and nostalgia of home. Home sweet home, maybe it is the best. If this is true, we owe it to ourselves to pay attention and not become couch potatoes. Aspire to look forward, with one foot lightly balanced in the past.