Reflections on "Home"

My husband, Jim Perlman, the Holy Cow of Holy Cow! Press, has been soliciting manuscripts for a new anthology he's putting together on the theme of Home (btw, the deadline has passed, so don't even think about it).  I entertained the idea of writing something for consideration, but decided against it on a number of grounds:  1)  I'm not a published creative writer; 2) I'm married to the publisher and that would just be weird; AND, 3)  I didn't have anything in the hopper.  Nevertheless, I have felt inspired to write about "home" given the theme of this blog.

I am a product of the second half of the 20th century--meaning, I am a peripatetic American.  I was born in Boston (actually Brookline was the site of the hospital where my Mother delivered me), spent early summers and holidays on Long Island, New York where both my parents were raised, moved to Kansas when I was 3, and Arizona when I was 5. In other words, we lived far away from both parents' extended families.  Long distance phone calls, as well as visits--of course, from our relatives were grand occasions. We prepared for weeks for visits by someone from Dad's family. Somehow, Mom's family never made it out west.  After settling in Arizona, our family made only two big visits back East, because--let's face it--it was expensive to travel with four kids.

Most of our travels during my childhood were focused on the west.  I spent many of my summers growing up in California where my Dad took summer employment at exotic places like Edwards Air Force Base, and China Lake Naval Weapons Ordinance Control Center, and later, Jet Propulsion Laboratory.  The year I graduated high school, however, my Dad took the whole family to England and Germany for his sabbatical year.

Returning from Europe, I spent the next three years at the University of Arizona in my "home town" of Tucson, only to bolt out of there the day after graduation for a new adventure in Minnesota.  I was following my heart to be with my then-boyfriend, now-husband.  We stayed in Minneapolis for a year and then moved to Iowa City where we both attended graduate school.

I landed my first professional teaching job at Illinois State University in Normal/Bloomington.  While there, in spite/because we were having a long distance relationship (Jim stayed in Iowa city), Jim and I finally got married and had our oldest son.  I stayed there three years, and then returned to Iowa City as a visiting prof at my Ph.D. alma mater -- the University of Iowa.  Our oldest daughter was born in Iowa City.  After two years as a visitor, it was time to move on to a tenure-track position.  Visiting professor status was not particularly conducive to career stability.  I chose the University of Wisconsin Stevens Point as my next employer--primarily because one of my best buds from grad school was on the faculty there.  We had our second daughter/third child in Stevens Point, and then felt compelled to move closer to my husband's family in Minnesota.  Both his parents were getting older and his two sisters lived in the Twin Cities with their families.

We arrived in Duluth almost 24 years ago on August 1, 1988.  This is OUR home and, by the way, we had our second son, fourth child here.  This is where we have made our life.  Duluth is where we live.  Duluth is where I work.  Duluth is where we bought our first and only house.  Duluth is where our four kids attended school, one of whom even graduated  from UMD.   Is it home?  I think so, but I hesitate.

 

I yearn for the mountains and Mexican culture of Tucson. Whenever I fly in to Tucson, I get a little thrill looking at the landscape of desert and mountains.  I love seeing "A" Mountain, San Xavier, the U of A.  I love spying Kitt Peak as we drive from Catalina in to Tucson proper.  These are all the landmarks which were a big part of my childhood.  Clearly,  I still think of Tucson as home in many, many ways.   For many years, I think Tucson still seemed like home to me because that's where my parents lived.  They've both passed on, but my youngest daughter,  my sister and her husband, and my dearest friend still live there.  Regardless, it is the place I'm from, the place I grew up, the place I continue to call "home".

As I thought about what to say in this post, a verse from a lovely song kept echoing in my brain.  Nancy Reinhold writes in "Leave a Little Light": 

When we’re homesick it’s not for places

So much as the faces of the people that we know
And the road that we take is built on a landscape
Of each of our loving souls

Yes, I believe a big part of what is "home" to me is the "faces of the people that we know".  I guess that's why I, and I imagine many others, face challenges when considering what is "home".  The people we love play such an enormous role in what constitutes home.

My Mother used to say that I was always ready to hit the road.  She told a story about when my dad contracted pneumonia while completing his Ph.D. at Harvard.  It was too much for her to handle on her own, so she called upon my grandparents to drive up from New York and to collect me and my sister. That way, my Mom could care for my dad while he recuperated.  Mother said as soon as I heard Grandma and Grandpa were on their way, I headed up to my bedroom, donned my Easter best (bonnet and all--even though I was filthy dirty from playing), packed a little bag and waited impatiently for them to whisk me away to West Hempstead. 

It's true, I love being on the road.  I love being in new places, learning about new cultures and experiencing new food, music, art and landscapes.  I have stayed true to my peripatetic nature all these years.  And yet, I always find myself ready to come home.

What am I going to miss while I'm in England?  Yes, it's "the faces of the people" I know.  I will miss my husband, I will miss my four children, and I will miss my friends.  I never feel quite whole without them.

I will also miss that great big lake down the road.  I will miss the trees and the hills of Duluth.  The landscape of THIS place is also a part of me.

Another of my favorite songs addresses this theme.  Karla Bonoff wirtes:

Traveling at night,
The headlights were bright.
But soon the sun came through the trees
Around the next bend
The flowers will send
The sweet scent of home in the breeze

And Home
Sings me of sweet things
My life there has its own wings
To fly over the mountains
Though I'm standing still 

So...home is all these things--people/loved ones first and foremost, but places--landscapes, flora, fauna, landmarks--too.