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.
Showing posts with label home. Show all posts
Showing posts with label home. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Coming Home
After we moved to Arizona in 1980, the idea of "home" became a powerful force in my life. I missed everything about upstate New York. Birds, trees, flowers, views, the Hudson, rain, family, customs, hills, fishing, seasons....everything. I had no idea how connected I was to this part of our planet. I remember watching ET in a Phoenix theater and bawling like a baby when he was trying to call home.
When we would make periodic trips back there was always excitement and satisfaction. We would arrive at the airport and drive east on Route 7 from Latham towards Troy. When we crested the hill where the Hudson valley comes into view and you're able to see most of Troy, Watervliet, Cohoes and Green Island I would feel transformed. The longing for home finally resolved. Very powerful. This view still moves me when I drive that road.
After ten years of in the desert Dorothy and I decided that we would do whatever was needed so that we could return to the Northeast. We were finally able to make the move after spending ten more years in Arizona. Our daughters were fairly well launched, I was able to find a work as an addiction counselor in Troy, and Dorothy's boss had made arrangements for her to keep her job in Arizona by telecommuting.
Coming back felt completely right. It did not feel like a retreat but a victory. We were able to have this great twenty year adventure where our separation from the familiar and predictable gave us the opportunity, to change, grow and experience well beyond what would have been possible in New York. We separated ourselves from all the normal pinnings of support and had to survive. We did survive and in many ways lived a very fulfilling life but the pull of home was always there.
We've been back nearly twelve years and the thrill of being home isn't gone. When I tell people we moved back from Arizona they inevitably ask me why the hell I would do that. This is especially true mid-winter. I feel it is a great gift to be so grateful to be living here.
I think I'm writing about this because as I approach retirement I feel my life is about to change at a level comparable to the way it was changed when I moved to Arizona. This move is more about the geography of the heart.
Last night's dream....
Dorothy and I are driving a rural road I take a side dirt road that is wet from an ongoing rain. After awhile we go down a fairly steep hill and when I get to the bottom I become worried that the car might not be able to get back up the muddy hill. I turned the car around and hit the gas trying to get momentum to help the climb. I almost made it to the top but the wheels started spinning in the mud and I had to back down. At the bottom there was a river that was rising above its banks and coming close to the road. We found a seedy looking bed and breakfast/boarding house that stood by itself along the road. We got a room and I went out for a walk in the rain. I noticed that the river was higher and worried about Dorothy being in a house that might get washed away. I walked into a village where all the buildings were very ramshackle and built so that there was no space between them. Most were one story high and looked deserted, almost like the set of an old western movie. I heard the crack of pool balls and noticed a building with it's front open to the air and people inside playing pool. I went in and people ignored me. I went up to one person and tried to ask him if there was any other way out of town than the hill. He raised his hand as if to signal me that that topic was off limits. Most of the people looked dim witted and had bad teeth. I was more than an outsider, I felt mostly like a transparent observer. There was a young man who sat at a table playing the card game Hearts with a few of the locals. He was well dressed, had good teeth and looked completely comfortable and at peace. I envied him. I somehow was able to get some information about an old woman who helped people find a way out that didn't involve going up the hill but it was all very vague. I looked out from the pool hall and noticed a beat up old car, obviously full of locals, speeding up the hill. It lurched and looked like it was going to get stuck but finally made it to the top and I could hear people in the car cheering. Someone then told me there was a very narrow part of the road where you could get traction to make it to the top but it was hard to find. Then I woke up.
When we would make periodic trips back there was always excitement and satisfaction. We would arrive at the airport and drive east on Route 7 from Latham towards Troy. When we crested the hill where the Hudson valley comes into view and you're able to see most of Troy, Watervliet, Cohoes and Green Island I would feel transformed. The longing for home finally resolved. Very powerful. This view still moves me when I drive that road.
After ten years of in the desert Dorothy and I decided that we would do whatever was needed so that we could return to the Northeast. We were finally able to make the move after spending ten more years in Arizona. Our daughters were fairly well launched, I was able to find a work as an addiction counselor in Troy, and Dorothy's boss had made arrangements for her to keep her job in Arizona by telecommuting.
Coming back felt completely right. It did not feel like a retreat but a victory. We were able to have this great twenty year adventure where our separation from the familiar and predictable gave us the opportunity, to change, grow and experience well beyond what would have been possible in New York. We separated ourselves from all the normal pinnings of support and had to survive. We did survive and in many ways lived a very fulfilling life but the pull of home was always there.
We've been back nearly twelve years and the thrill of being home isn't gone. When I tell people we moved back from Arizona they inevitably ask me why the hell I would do that. This is especially true mid-winter. I feel it is a great gift to be so grateful to be living here.
I think I'm writing about this because as I approach retirement I feel my life is about to change at a level comparable to the way it was changed when I moved to Arizona. This move is more about the geography of the heart.
Last night's dream....
Dorothy and I are driving a rural road I take a side dirt road that is wet from an ongoing rain. After awhile we go down a fairly steep hill and when I get to the bottom I become worried that the car might not be able to get back up the muddy hill. I turned the car around and hit the gas trying to get momentum to help the climb. I almost made it to the top but the wheels started spinning in the mud and I had to back down. At the bottom there was a river that was rising above its banks and coming close to the road. We found a seedy looking bed and breakfast/boarding house that stood by itself along the road. We got a room and I went out for a walk in the rain. I noticed that the river was higher and worried about Dorothy being in a house that might get washed away. I walked into a village where all the buildings were very ramshackle and built so that there was no space between them. Most were one story high and looked deserted, almost like the set of an old western movie. I heard the crack of pool balls and noticed a building with it's front open to the air and people inside playing pool. I went in and people ignored me. I went up to one person and tried to ask him if there was any other way out of town than the hill. He raised his hand as if to signal me that that topic was off limits. Most of the people looked dim witted and had bad teeth. I was more than an outsider, I felt mostly like a transparent observer. There was a young man who sat at a table playing the card game Hearts with a few of the locals. He was well dressed, had good teeth and looked completely comfortable and at peace. I envied him. I somehow was able to get some information about an old woman who helped people find a way out that didn't involve going up the hill but it was all very vague. I looked out from the pool hall and noticed a beat up old car, obviously full of locals, speeding up the hill. It lurched and looked like it was going to get stuck but finally made it to the top and I could hear people in the car cheering. Someone then told me there was a very narrow part of the road where you could get traction to make it to the top but it was hard to find. Then I woke up.
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