Home is Where the Heart Is?

I try to keep my postings academic in nature, but I've been thinking about what is "home" and where is home a lot lately, a subject that is more personal than professional. Permit me, if you will, a rumination.

I recently returned from Minnesota, where my parents' current home is, land of ice, snow, and inhumane temperatures. It is not "my" home as my parents only moved there a year and I'm not sure they'd enthusiastically declare it as their home either.

As I mentioned in an earlier posting I've lived in 11 places in 25 years. The majority of the time was spent growing up in Wisconsin, a short stint was in the central valley of California- between Fresno and Bakersfield, you know the (soon-to-be-voluntarily-retired) actor Joaquin Phoenix? I'm in/was in the San Joaquin Valley. I graduated from high school in Connecticuit, went to art school in Savannah, Georgia and flew to Milwaukee when school wasn't in session. I've lived in Chicago proper and Naperville, IL, a white collar suburb of Chicago. I've got my sights set on L.A. for more schooling and hopefully an eventual career. Hello Santa Monica, do you foresee an entry-level planning position in two years?

There is a saying that says home is where the heart is. I'm not sure where my heart is.

I was thinking specifically of this metaphorical heart because one of my dearest friends, after an incredibly long and drama-filled 5 year relationship decided that her heart was no longer in Savannah, GA, where we had gone to school together. She is originally from San Francisco and had considered moving to Philadelphia, but had stayed because her boyfriend was in Savannah and he was unenthusiastic about leaving for greener pastures. But then things reached an impass in their relationship and she realized that nothing was anchoring her to Savannah. So, she packed up and legged it to Boston to stay with a friend while she sorts things out.

As I was talking to her it was 23 degrees in Boston, but she sounded exhilirated. She had forgotten that so many cities have more than two movie theaters that show more than just the latest offering from Disney, diversity and culture around every corner, and there are street vendors- sorry no roach coaches in Savannah, though they'd probably make a killing with all of the hungry and harried college students rushing about on Broughton and Bull Streets.

My friend is literally one of the smartest and cultured people that I will ever meet and I'm not implying that Savannah made her stupid. But living in one place for a long time can procur a certain kind of amnesia. One can forget what the rest of the world looks like, which is a shame because there is so much that this world has to offer.

I used to consider it some sort of cosmic injustice that I constantly had to move, but now I see it as a blessing. I've had the opportunity to live in some parts of the U.S. some other people may never even get to visit in their lifetimes

But during the holidays, driving through the cozy-and-a-little-dowdy Midwest brought about a pang for me as I looked upon the rather plain but familiar ranch, Cape Cod, and salt box houses in white or beige with brown, black or green trim that populated the streets and the memories of my childhood. There were a few forlorn Spanish revival houses on my parents' block, looking like displaced transplants from California, but mainly there were small houses of modest proportions with equally modest trim.

And for a moment I wondered what I was doing on the West Coast hundreds of miles from family, a question numerous strangers have asked me. Why shouldn't I move back to these familiar sights and just, I don't know?! teach elementary art as I had considered doing in high school.

Then, after a sub-zero wind chill hit me and almost sucked the air out of my lungs I realized why. Because I dreamed of moving (back) to California. I wanted to go to grad school in L.A. and see what urban planning is like down there and now I am on my way to accomplishing this.

It may not be home, but it's definitely a place I want to get to know better, on my terms. The last time we were here I was in the 4th grade and we had come because my dad's company was attempting to start up another branch in the town we lived in.

I will probably never move back to the East Coast, above the Mason-Dixon line. The outlook and lifestyle aren't in sync with mine. Yet many people can't imagine living anywhere else. But if my friend settles into a life in Boston I will gladly visit her and the new life she may carve out there. She has too many memories of San Francisco and feels that she's experienced all that she wants to experience in the City By the Bay.

A few years ago I had considered moving back to Savannah as it was safe and familiar and frankly life after college is usually anything but. However, my friend was the last person from school that lived there and with her gone there is nothing left except the bars we frequented.

I'd lived in Milwaukee twice, in two different suburbs, but the first time I was so little I don't remember many specifics and the second time as a displaced college student, having moved there two days after high school graduation (from CT- keep up people!), it never felt like home. And the frigid temperatures didn't encourage that I stay.

Given the right mix of opportunities I may move back to Chicago some day, but over my dead body will you find me in Naperville again. Though I highly recommend it for the people looking to raise their kids in a safe town with excellent schools, at the time I was there I was single and childless, not exactly a hotbed of action for a twentysomething.

I've come to learn, there is very few things that are truly certain in life. It is not certain that I will get married, it is not certain that I will have children. There are no guarantees that I will leave this planet without a cancer cell ever marring my body or even depart with all of the limbs that I came into this world with. But that's OK.

A wise person once observed that "life is not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be lived." So even if I had a pair of ruby-red slippers to click and whisper, "there's no place like home" it's unlikely I'd wind up in one specific place. And I think I'm learning to be OK with that.

John Steinbeck once said, "I have homes everywhere, many of which I have not seen yet. That is perhaps why I am restless. I haven't seen all my homes."

Perhaps that is why I too am restless.

ps- the girl in the picture is neither me nor my friend from Savannah. But she is my bestest friend.