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Far from home

(5/10/2008) Recently I toured the Anderson House, a historic home in Washington DC.  The tour guide asked each of us where we were from, and I did not know what to say. The answer I chose was “Arlington.”  After 6 months in Arlington, Virginia, I can say this is home, although that still sounds strange. And even after 6  more months or 6 more years, it may still sound foreign because I am not from here.  Yes, it is home, but I am far from home.  Originally, I am from Central Illinois.  At least that is where I grew up, so that is home.  After ten years living in Texas, that, too, was home.  And there have been others.  In this age of travel, mobile lives, far flung friends, we have reached a point where there is no singular definition of home.

I worked at a hotel where employees’ hometowns were listed on their nametags.  I didn’t know what to put on my nametag, because home is how we identify ourselves.  Did I want to identify with my current city or the sleepy small town where I grew up?  Many employees faced the same decision.  If they were born in Canada or Costa Rica but emigrated to Ohio as a child, which is home?  Is it where people went to high school, or where they spent the majority of their lives?  Or could it be that anywhere you hang your hat is home?

I am left with a conundrum.  Is it possibly to say “I am from here” and “I am not from here” and both statements be equally correct?  Continue reading →

You must see hula dancers in Hawai'i

There is one thing you must do when you visit.  In Honolulu, you must climb watch sunset from the House Without a Key or visit Pearl Harbor or take surfing lessons.  You must, say your friends.  If you do not, you will be cheating yourself.  You have probably said it, too.

The truth is that there is nothing that you must do.  If you want to visit Paris but skip the Mona Lisa, be my guest.  I will not gasp.  I will not mock you for it.  If you want to fly all of the way to the Caribbean and never leave your all-inclusive resort, please to enjoy.  That may not be for me, but it is your trip, not mine.

In Waikiki, I walked by the Cheesecake Factory, and wondered why anyone would fly to a remote island to eat there, when there is one 4 miles from my house.  But then I realized that I am not everyone and that everyone does not have a Cheesecake Factory in their city.  I forgot that to eat anywhere outdoors in January is a treat.  I used to eat Sbarro pizza every day I visited Chicago.  We had none in Champaign, and that, to me, was what Chicago was all about.

If you look closely, you can see the Mona Lisa

The Sunday paper will command You absolutely must . . .  Your friends will do the same.  Make a note of their don’t miss sites, then choose your own adventure with or without their guidance.  And, by the way, the Mona Lisa looks the same in person as in your textbook, except for the crowds.