You Can't Go "Home" Again. Because "Home" Is Not A Place

This is a very disorganized ramble through some thoughts I've had kicking around in my head for the last few days. If it doesn't make sense to you, feel free to quit reading.  

I recently returned to the area of Southern California very near where I grew up and spent some of my leisure time.  Nothing much was recognizable.  It's been 27 years since I left California for Germany.  Matt and I spent 4 years there, and then the Air Force sent us here to Oklahoma.

I didn't go to any of my old haunts.  I was there for my Mom's burial service at Rose Hills, which has grown SO much since last we were there in 1986 to bury my Pop.  Mom is next to him now, and there are BIG trees all around now, whereas before there were none.  The spectacular view is no longer easily available from that site.  Still, it is a beautiful spot, on a hillside, near the top of a hill. 

The service was really less a service than a remembrance.  We sat in a circle and told Mom stories.  The pastor asked us to consider where Mom is now, where do we think she is?  (I maintain she's with Pop again, because that would be her idea of Heaven.  And perhaps Ollie and Bobo kitties are with them, and maybe Kasey will show up to wait with them for me.  Skippy and Misty and O.D. (dogs) are probably hanging around as well, and I hope Dougal, Taz, Mr. Bear, and Skye show up to say hi and that they'll be waiting for me and Matt.  
The rest of the people Mom loved who have gone before will be there, I'm sure, and they'll all be waiting for us.  That's what Heaven is to me, to know all the ones I have cherished will be together again at last.  There is no detailed description, no guarantee about what Heaven is, but I believe it is the ultimate sense of being "home".  A place and a sense of being surrounded by love that makes us feel at peace and secure.

 I discovered long ago that home isn't a place, it's a sense of belonging, a relationship.  Usually between you and the people you belong to, but also a relationship to a place. 
I found that my internal compass works better in Southern California, perhaps because that is where it was originally programmed.  I could tell almost always which direction we were going, even if I didn't recognize much in the way of highways or buildings.  I get turned around out here, very easily.  Oklahoma is not where my compass was programmed to navigate.  I have had to teach myself to pay attention to where I am here.  In Southern California, I had a pretty good idea where I was, even if I hadn't been there before. (Because chances are I HAD been there before, just in the 1970s or earlier!)

Even though I had no previous ties to Oklahoma, it is now truly "HOME"to me.  I have been through so much here, grown so much, learned so much, and come to love so many people here, that is is definitely home.  I have made friends that I love as much as family, found a church that challenges me, comforts me, and appreciates me, found work that is of value to my community, and that lets me support my passion for reading and sharing my love of reading with others.  Besides, home is really wherever Matthew is for me.  For almost 32 years, Matt has been my love, my support, my partner in adventure.  As long as I have him, I have a really good sense of "home".

The "home" I found in Southern California on this visit had more to do with the people around me than the place itself.  Family is family, wherever you are. Even if you have your issues with each other, you still belong to each other, and yes, you love each other.  I had the great privilege of getting to spend time with my niece Amy, whom I had not seen since 1988 or 89.  She has grown into a lovely young woman, and has a wonderful husband and an adorable two and a half year old daughter.  I was 16 the year Amy was born.  Same distance between she and I that exists between me and my oldest brother.  I remember well when she was born. She was SO wanted, so loved, even before she got here.  She was my folks' first grandchild.  My first niece.  My sister's first child. 
She took very good care of her silly old auntie while I was visiting.  Found a great hotel for me, took me out to eat, took me to see the ocean again, and most of all, let me meet my grandniece.  We had a chance to catch up and learn about each other on an adult level, and it was very nice indeed. 

 I also got to spend some time with my nephew, whom I hadn't seen since he was little.  He has little boys of his own now, and they are adorable.  His wife is really sweet, and the boys are a bit shy around weird old aunties that they've never met, but they were polite.  It means a lot that they cared enough to come and meet us at the beach and share some time with me while I was there. 

My oldest brother, so family legend has it, once went away to camp as a child (long before I was on the scene), and wrote a letter home the first week asking Mom and Pop to come get him.  Pop contended he was just homesick, and he'd get over it.  Butch said "No, I'm not homesick, I'm PEOPLE sick."  He missed his family, not his house. (Knowing Butch, he could also have been weary of the company of the other children, but that's another issue...)
The people who are your family are the people who "gotta love ya" as the saying goes.  They may not always LIKE you very much, but they do love you.  We are part of each other in a family, like it or not. 

My family is not terribly demonstrative, not "huggy" people.  I tend to be, I have an affectionate nature for being such an introvert, but if I love someone, I want them to know, I want to hold them close, even if only for a second.  We humans are such separate creatures, so unable to really see or know what goes on inside one another.  Oh, we can learn to be observant and make pretty good guesses, but we never know for sure.  Hugs are one of the few ways we can express that sense of "We are part of each other" .  I have friends I hug, because I love them.  (They also happen to be huggy people, so that works out...)

My siblings all left home by the time I was nine.  I had Mom and Pop all to myself from then until I was 24 and got married and moved out myself.  I was spoiled as a child, but just as much by my siblings as by my parents.  My parents finally got used to the idea that I was a grown up, but I don't think the same has sunk in to all my siblings.  My parents knew for sure I was a real adult when I stayed by myself in that house in DOWNTOWN San Bernardino while Matt was TDY.  Well, I was married, and that house was our home.  I had work of my own to do, and I had to be home to do it.  Besides, running back to Mom and Pop never even occurred to me.  (Where Matthew comes back to is home, even when that was a small apartment on a farm in Germany during the first Gulf War.)

Mom and Pop had a parting ritual.  Every time Pop left for work, he kissed Mom and said they said "I love you." Pop used to say "Love you most." Or Mom would, whoever got to it first.  They were affectionate, and when I was a little kid, they were affectionate with me, too.  Even when I was a grown up, they'd hug me goodbye when they came to visit, or if I did.  I know my siblings were more affectionate when they were younger. I don't know why time seems to have put a stiffness around us.  Oh, they will break down and hug on the rare occasions we are together, but it always has an awkward  feel to it.  My friends are much more natural about it.  Heck, a couple of the kids who come in the library are more relaxed about it, and they don't know me THAT well, even if I have known them since they were tiny.

So, yes, home can mean many things, but mostly it is a place where you feel loved, and where you feel you belong.  "Home is where the heart is" , "Home is where they have to let you in when you go there." "You can't go home again."  So many sayings about home.  For me, as I said, home is where Matthew is.  Sometimes it takes awhile for a place to feel like home, but you put down roots, and you grow, and you come to love and be loved by the people and the place. 

A Poem For Michael

This is one I wrote for Michael Ornstein, an artist and actor who interacts with me on Twitter from time to time.  His work and his comments on it have caused me to ponder art of all sorts and its relationship to life.  Art is necessary to our existence, no matter what some may say or think.
This poem to me especially speaks of how Michael's art speaks to me. 
Thanks, Michael, for all the points to ponder, and for making me look at my own art, that of painting with words. 


Ruminations On Art
By C.K. Armistead
March 2014


Art is like life
You can't erase
You can only add
A layer to cover
To keep hidden the sad,
To smooth the rough over.
But still
It shows through
Just like in life
Truth finds
Its way out
Past the façade
We choose
To try
To hide it.




And here are my thoughts on my own art, not always practiced as much as it should be.


Ruminations on Poetry
By C.K. Armistead
March 2014


Words written or spoken
Cannot be taken back
Once said, once read,
They go on
Leaving hearts healed
Or broken
In their wake.
Like any art,
You can only add
Never take away
You can try to cover
The ugliness you say
Or perceive
But truth will out
Under the ugly
The beauty
Behind the hurt
The healing
If we're lucky.




I hope you enjoy these ruminations of mine.  I felt today to be a good day to write, even though I am at work this morning.  This IS a library, after all, a place of words and ideas, where they are sheltered, stored, shared.  If I cannot write here, where CAN I write? 
It is raining out this morning, and cool, and dreary enough to cause reflection and ruminations.  There is also an odd energy about the library today, cheerfulness and activity, people here and happy to see one another, children playing and reading and growing.  A good morning.  I hope it is where you are, too.

The 21st Century Addiction

These days we have so many demands on our attention.  There are so many different types of news, entertainment, and activities vying for our time.  Many of us experience extreme anxiety if we have to be without our small electronic connections to the wider world for more than an hour or two. 
Many words have been written about this addiction of 21st century Americans, and many have advocated "unplugged" days, or even weeks.  It is startling to think that as little as two years ago, I would not have thought anything of going for days without even looking at my cell phone.  (I didn't get a smart phone until about 2 years ago.)  I used my computer daily, and I had a Nook Color e-reader that I used extensively.  (But mostly OFF-line, as a reader.) 

Today, I have the three electronic devices you see in the picture.  A Nook HD+ e-reader, my Android phone, and this absolutely unbelievably fast computer that I fear may be smarter than I am. I can easily spend HOURS involved with any of these devices.  Some days, I spend hours looking for and re-reading fan fiction stories, checking my email, checking social media to see if anyone has anything to say, and just generally wasting time.  Occasionally, I sit down here and actually write, or I actually write something in one of my notebooks that I can tweak and maybe use later.  I do also use my e-reader to read books.  I have several I am currently reading.  Just finished December's Thorn by Philip DePoy.  That series of mysteries featuring Fever Devlin are very interesting reads.  The character is a folklorist, and the stories all have their familiar elements.  Also, the fact that crazy seems commonplace in the South rings true to those of us who have Southern families with stories about some of the distant relatives...

My poor husband is about at the end of his patience with me disappearing into one or the other of these devices for hours on end.  (Never mind that he has had his spells of doing the same thing...)  It is true that all of this "connectedness" with the wider world seems to be making relationships in the here and now more difficult.  I cannot count how many people come to my desk at work while on their cell phones, and try to have a conversation with me about their account as well as a conversation with whomever is on the phone.  People walk through public places having rather personal conversations at a rather loud volume, completely oblivious to those around them.  Manners seem to have gotten lost somewhere along the line.  I try to be conscious of my surroundings when I am out and about.  I usually leave the cell phone in my purse unless I am stuck waiting in an office somewhere for a long period of time.  Where I grew up, being unaware of your surroundings was a good way to end up severely injured, if not dead. 

Why is it SO important that we stay "in touch" at all times these days?  Can we not go out to run errands or just to stroll around on a lovely Spring day without taking the cares of the world with us?  There is no one I need to talk to so badly and so often that I must have my phone glued to my head at all times.  My husband knows where to find me if he needs me, so do my coworkers and friends, so I don't need to worry about being  "unavailable."  I really worry about the kids I see walking around, and some, indeed, driving around, with that ever present phone either in their hands or in their ears.  People my age are little better.  Perhaps some are worse, because at our age, fingers and eyesight do not cooperate as well as they once did, and multitasking becomes a bit more of a challenge. 

My body is starting to suffer from all the sitting around staring at screens.  I get aches and pains from being in the same position too long. I am not in the same shape I was in two years ago.  Time to unplug for at least awhile and start doing the workouts EVERY DAY again.  I did that today.  Did my weight workout AND took my walk.  Physical workouts should also help my voice.  Must have strong abs to sing properly, and also the stamina gained from aerobic exercise is extremely valuable to a singer.  With a concert of opera arias, duets, ensembles and choruses coming up in Master Chorale, I need to be in top shape.  (I like singing opera better than church music anyway, and I DO sing out when I sing an aria.)  I and another student of Karen's are learning a duet to sing, and I'd like to do a duet with Matt if I can.

So I have plenty to keep me busy if I "unplug" for awhile.  If I decide to try it, I'll write about how it goes.