Chap­ter 28 – A Nation on the Wing explores how pros­per­i­ty and mobil­i­ty have rede­fined the con­cept of home and the val­ues once asso­ci­at­ed with per­ma­nence. The chap­ter begins with the nar­ra­tor recount­ing a vis­it to an opu­lent home recent­ly com­plet­ed by a wealthy own­er. What stands out isn’t the grandeur, but the owner’s prac­ti­cal foresight—he already envi­sioned the home’s con­ver­sion into apart­ments if the mar­ket demand­ed it. This deci­sion wasn’t based on emo­tion­al con­nec­tion or tra­di­tion but on util­i­ty and the aware­ness that per­ma­nence is no longer a pri­or­i­ty. The house becomes less of a sanc­tu­ary and more of a spec­u­la­tive asset, pre­pared to shift func­tions in response to change. In this light, the build­ing rep­re­sents a broad­er mind­set that pri­or­i­tizes flex­i­bil­i­ty over roots, val­ue over sen­ti­ment, and mobil­i­ty over tra­di­tion.

This atti­tude isn’t lim­it­ed to new homeowners—it reflects an evolv­ing soci­etal trend, where com­fort is no longer syn­ony­mous with stay­ing put. The author recalls an elder­ly, child­less cou­ple who, with­out hes­i­ta­tion, gave away their fur­ni­ture and house­hold pos­ses­sions to pur­sue a Bohemi­an lifestyle. Their embrace of free­dom from mate­r­i­al anchors paints a vivid por­trait of how wealth and trav­el enable peo­ple to break from soci­etal norms of set­tling down. The couple’s sto­ry illus­trates how own­er­ship can become bur­den­some in a world that cel­e­brates con­stant motion. Rather than set­tling in one place, they chose the free­dom of move­ment, using their finan­cial resources to adopt a roam­ing lifestyle. Their deci­sion under­scores a shift from home-cen­tered life to expe­ri­ence-cen­tered liv­ing, where adven­ture takes prece­dence over attach­ment.

Chap­ter 28 – A Nation on the Wing also rais­es thought-pro­vok­ing ques­tions about how this lifestyle trend impacts com­mu­ni­ty and inter­gen­er­a­tional bonds. When fam­i­lies relo­cate frequently—sometimes across continents—children grow up with­out the con­stan­cy of a fam­i­ly home or neigh­bor­hood ties. The com­mu­ni­ty, once root­ed in shared his­to­ry and long-term inter­ac­tion, becomes frag­ment­ed by move­ment. Tra­di­tions that once flour­ished in sta­ble, mul­ti-gen­er­a­tional house­holds start to fade when every­one is “on the wing.” This rest­less­ness, while excit­ing, weak­ens the social glue that binds com­mu­ni­ties togeth­er. The author sug­gests that homes, once repos­i­to­ries of mem­o­ries and fam­i­ly lega­cies, are being replaced by a string of tem­po­rary address­es that leave lit­tle emo­tion­al imprint.

The ris­ing pop­u­lar­i­ty of guid­ed tours and orga­nized trav­el illus­trates how this phe­nom­e­non is not con­fined to the elite. Even mid­dle-class indi­vid­u­als now embark on jour­neys once reserved for the wealthy, enabled by expand­ing trans­porta­tion net­works and a grow­ing tourism indus­try. The ease of book­ing a trip and the avail­abil­i­ty of curat­ed expe­ri­ences have trans­formed trav­el from a lux­u­ry into a com­mon aspi­ra­tion. But as the globe becomes small­er and more acces­si­ble, the iden­ti­ty once tied to a sin­gle town or home becomes dilut­ed. Peo­ple live in mul­ti­ple cities, change res­i­dences fre­quent­ly, and form friend­ships across continents—but often at the expense of deep local con­nec­tion. This con­ve­nience comes with an emo­tion­al cost, erod­ing the sense of belong­ing that was once root­ed in place.

In this way, Chap­ter 28 – A Nation on the Wing sub­tly cri­tiques the illu­sion of free­dom that trav­el pro­vides. While mobil­i­ty offers expo­sure to cul­tures, cuisines, and cus­toms, it may also leave indi­vid­u­als unan­chored, long­ing for the famil­iar­i­ty they’ve trad­ed away. The author mus­es that per­haps humans have always car­ried a nomadic instinct, one that resur­faces when mate­r­i­al means allow. But mod­ern wan­der­lust is dif­fer­ent from ancient migration—it is dri­ven less by neces­si­ty and more by rest­less­ness, trend, or sta­tus. As a result, this mod­ern move­ment lacks the com­mu­ni­ty-focused aims of ear­li­er eras. Instead of build­ing togeth­er, peo­ple drift apart, fol­low­ing per­son­al paths rather than shared futures.

Tech­no­log­i­cal advance­ments have only accel­er­at­ed this momen­tum, shrink­ing time and dis­tance. Air­planes, express trains, and lux­u­ry lin­ers allow even the ordi­nary trav­el­er to cross bor­ders with ease. As these tools become more wide­spread, the idea of “set­tling down” seems increas­ing­ly out­dat­ed. The future, as imag­ined in this chap­ter, is one where peo­ple live in tran­sit, where careers, rela­tion­ships, and mem­o­ries are car­ried in suit­cas­es instead of root­ed in com­mu­ni­ties. Even homes may become obso­lete, replaced by tem­po­rary res­i­dences designed more for con­ve­nience than for com­fort. Though this future promis­es free­dom, it may also deliv­er a pecu­liar form of loneliness—one shaped not by iso­la­tion, but by the absence of per­ma­nence.

What makes Chap­ter 28 – A Nation on the Wing par­tic­u­lar­ly res­o­nant is its bal­anced view of this soci­etal shift. It does not con­demn trav­el or tech­no­log­i­cal progress; instead, it invites read­ers to con­sid­er what might be lost along the way. Are peo­ple gain­ing mean­ing­ful expe­ri­ences, or are they sim­ply stay­ing in motion to avoid still­ness? The author leaves that ques­tion open, encour­ag­ing intro­spec­tion in an age of rapid move­ment. By reflect­ing on sto­ries both per­son­al and cul­tur­al, the chap­ter becomes a mir­ror through which read­ers can exam­ine their own attach­ments to place, tra­di­tion, and iden­ti­ty. The take­away is not to resist change, but to ask whether the jour­ney still holds mean­ing if no roots are allowed to grow.