I've been homesick for SLC lately. I haven't a clue why because all the cherished landmarks of my childhood, except for the house I grew up in, has been razed and replaced by some godawful box. Even my childhood home has morphed into something else. It's there. It's recognizable. And I love visiting my nephew and his wife, but even that's gotten weird. If you can find your way around what used to be home, what's the point of returning. Besides, the last time I was there, my cat died. Jesus!
It's weird, like being called back, but not knowing why. It could signify some deeper psychological yearning, but I'm tired to figure it out. Better to be in the moment as much as I can. Plus, it doesn't feel like home anymore to me.
True, some deeper psychological yearning. At 75, I'm feeling really weird about home and old friends and ... goodness shall I make a list. It's like the end of an era and the next beginning isn't offering anything that turns on the lights at all. Maybe part of it is the suspense of what's going to happen in the next few years. Some kind of undefined angst before the earthquake hits.
what a wonderful piece, Paul. and oh my your great grandfather! I cannot image being kicked out of your house at 13 because there wasn't enough food. what a kick-start to life! having always lived on the west coast, I have a very different perspective and memory of what home was. I grew up near Los Angeles, twenty five miles east. but I know the Palisades and Malibu and Altadena and Hollywood - now all burning. whole communities gone. It is surreal and horrifying. and now reading of your family's homes. still there. others are not so lucky. where is home anymore?
No kidding, Tabby. I have a much more tenuous connection to California, but have adopted it as a sort of personal second home. I have just always felt happy when I go to that state, and it could be north, south, east or west, I love it all. It kills me to see it burning. We need to get out there and pass through your corner of Oregon at some point soon. Thanks.
Love this stellar piece & relate to it madly. I too was formed by the suburban Queens backdrop I became eager to leave, slipping off with buddies to where I live now (& shopkeepers startling us by saying, "Go back to Queens, girls!"). My older cousin left Brooklyn for the 'burbs of Blue Bell, PA & cannot understand why his daughters now live in the Brooklyn he split from. Yours is a great American generational story, Paul, told with such warmth & specificity.
Thanks, Ellen, as always, for being such a close reader, someone who notices things and then can articulate a response that rises above. I identify, as we say.
I've been homesick for SLC lately. I haven't a clue why because all the cherished landmarks of my childhood, except for the house I grew up in, has been razed and replaced by some godawful box. Even my childhood home has morphed into something else. It's there. It's recognizable. And I love visiting my nephew and his wife, but even that's gotten weird. If you can find your way around what used to be home, what's the point of returning. Besides, the last time I was there, my cat died. Jesus!
It's weird, like being called back, but not knowing why. It could signify some deeper psychological yearning, but I'm tired to figure it out. Better to be in the moment as much as I can. Plus, it doesn't feel like home anymore to me.
True, some deeper psychological yearning. At 75, I'm feeling really weird about home and old friends and ... goodness shall I make a list. It's like the end of an era and the next beginning isn't offering anything that turns on the lights at all. Maybe part of it is the suspense of what's going to happen in the next few years. Some kind of undefined angst before the earthquake hits.
what a wonderful piece, Paul. and oh my your great grandfather! I cannot image being kicked out of your house at 13 because there wasn't enough food. what a kick-start to life! having always lived on the west coast, I have a very different perspective and memory of what home was. I grew up near Los Angeles, twenty five miles east. but I know the Palisades and Malibu and Altadena and Hollywood - now all burning. whole communities gone. It is surreal and horrifying. and now reading of your family's homes. still there. others are not so lucky. where is home anymore?
No kidding, Tabby. I have a much more tenuous connection to California, but have adopted it as a sort of personal second home. I have just always felt happy when I go to that state, and it could be north, south, east or west, I love it all. It kills me to see it burning. We need to get out there and pass through your corner of Oregon at some point soon. Thanks.
Oh do come! How fun would that be!!!
Love this stellar piece & relate to it madly. I too was formed by the suburban Queens backdrop I became eager to leave, slipping off with buddies to where I live now (& shopkeepers startling us by saying, "Go back to Queens, girls!"). My older cousin left Brooklyn for the 'burbs of Blue Bell, PA & cannot understand why his daughters now live in the Brooklyn he split from. Yours is a great American generational story, Paul, told with such warmth & specificity.
Thanks, Ellen, as always, for being such a close reader, someone who notices things and then can articulate a response that rises above. I identify, as we say.