Wednesday, February 9, 2011


In a prior post I tried to explain how the idea of home became a powerful force in my life when I moved  to Arizona thirty years ago.  I deeply missed most everything about the northeast.  When we moved back to upstate New York in 1999 it felt right and it still does.  I felt home.  It is a deep, satisfying feeling that I believe doesn't surface fully until after an extended period of separation.

One of the huge downsides of moving back here from Arizona, where I lived for twenty years, was leaving friends.  I had been deeply involved in political struggles in Arizona and the relationships developed through that work were very important to me. When I moved back East I vowed to try to keep these ties intact.  It worked for awhile.  Emails and occasional visits back to Phoenix helped but eventually these all faded away.  It's sad to think about and I usually try to counter this sadness by gratefully remembering the rich, wonderful times I shared with these people.

These thoughts and feelings are surfacing now because because we spent the last couple of weekends looking for a house in the Binghamton area. On Saturday we found a wonderful place and we will move there in May when Dorothy and I retire.

The wheels of change are spinning very fast. I want to keep the realtionships I've made around here. I plan on coming back to Albany area to golf with friends several days per week.  The teardrop trailer is part of this plan. Still....

Letting go, not clinging, living in the moment, being grateful are very much a work in progress for me.  I slip and slide on melancholy.  I long for ghosts.  Trying to grab a "fistful of rain" (Zevon song).  It's a fools game.  Whenever I'm not in a funk about the things I've lost or am in the process of losing, life is wonderful.  There is beauty everywhere.  It's like I have a choice to be in a state of grace or have my soul masked by a false sense of entitlement. Really, It's just the way it is.  You move, you get old, you get sick, you die.  Duh.  It's like a continual struggle to shake off the shit that life leaves on my skin and keeps me from being fully awake and alive.

The thing is I know where my true home is.  I just have to remember.  It's a place that has nothing to do with where I've been. It's here. Right now.