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Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like had I grown up, married, and lived in the same place for my whole life. I’ve mentioned here in earlier posts how much I’ve moved around in my life. One of the by-products of that is a lack of detailed memories of some of the places I lived. In fact, prior to 5th or 6th grade, I really don’t remember a lot about my elementary school days. Memories of early childhood are fragmented and fleeting.
I have a couple of friends who can rattle off the names of almost every teacher they ever had in school. I suspect that they are able to do that because those teachers we part of the communities where my friends spent the majority of their lives. The adults who taught them were also members of the church communities, social circles and sometimes even extended families. That makes it a little easier to retain memories I think.
Next week I will be traveling back to the Midwest to visit my parents and three of my children and their families. While I’m there, I will also be connecting with some friends from my past who I haven’t for 15 years or more. I’m excited, but I’m also a little nervous. Past experience tells me that while the visits won’t be unpleasant, they might be a little strained. After all, we really haven’t had any common experiences for several years. I’ve played over possible conversations in my head, trying to create a scenario where it will be a good experience of renewing friendships.
As much as I wonder what it would have been like to live in the same place for life, I don’t regret the life I’ve lived in the least. I have experienced life in many interesting cities and towns, and I think I’m a better person because of those experiences. Living in Green Bay, Wisconsin, I got to enjoy my favorite football team in way I couldn’t anywhere else. In Lafayette, Indiana, I got a chance to get the degree that I wanted so badly to finish…even if I was 45 years old when I finally got that done. And in North Carolina, I have the best of both worlds — the ocean and the mountains. Plus, I’ve come back to the part of the country where my family originated in the 1700s.
I have had one experience in North Carolina that I would not have had if I hadn’t moved here. I met someone with my last name who wasn’t related. I had never had that experience before. Plus, when I tell people here my last name I seldom have to spell it. Back in Illinois…and almost everywhere else I’ve lived…people often spelled it wrong even after I spelled it for them. Everyone wanted to add an ‘r’. No matter how many times I pronounced my name they wanted to add that ‘r,’ and it’s pretty clear there isn’t one when I say the name. I suspect a lot of people thought I was a little slow and couldn’t say or spell my own name.
When I talk about going back to Illinois, or Indiana, I never say that I’m going home. My home is now in North Carolina. I’m just going back to a place where I used to live. I get the feeling that I should be a little sad or melancholy about that, but I’m not. I am excited about reconnecting with some old friends and sharing some of my experiences of the past few years with them. I’m also anxious to hear about the events of their lives. And when the visit is over, maybe I’ll have some seeds for some interesting blog posts. That’s the very best part.
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