Ohio and Jello

Hiking with brother, Gregg, just before getting caught in a SEVERE thunder storm...

very exciting!

I arrived in Ohio on Monday evening and except for two mornings waking up with NEW ideas for my dissertation (not necessarilly good ideas, not necessarilly ideas that even made sense once I wrote them down, but I did write them down...)my brain has gratefully turned to jello. Red, fruity, wiggly,fun. The thinking mode has been demoted from "intelligent and exciting" to "reach into the memory banks for laughable moments and is it time for bed yet?" mode.

Maybe that is part of "going home." When I was traveling here I felt some sadness that going to Ohio is different now. Home belongs to a new young family, my childhood bed is someone elses childhood bed or at the bottom of a land fill. My brother lives in a new home in a different city. There is no going back.

For over 20 years after moving away, "going home" meant re-entering a world I left, with minimal change. There was a security, a settling, a being taken care of, that would happen when I would walk through the door. For my stay, my parents were in charge again, I would have no responsibilities except to help around the house if I wanted to. I felt like a child, in a good way, safe and being taken care of. Many of my visits through those years were not so easy. Before I had done the work on my childhood dissapointments and disfunction, it wasn't so great. But once I had done that work, Home became a harbor to dock my boat when the oceans were a little too rough. When my navigation system was out and I needed to map a new course for my life. I have continued to call it "home" even though I moved away in 1981. Even after the death of my parents and the sale of their house. Last week when someone asked me if I was traveling after school, I said, "I am going back Home to visit my brother in Ohio, before I go home." Even though I didn't know what this Home would look like.

Now that I am here, I totally get it. Connecting to my brother, telling the old stories, the new stories. Spending the day with my dad's sister, my Aunt Marlene; my dad's cousin, Dolly; my cousin Lynne who I have known my whole life. Filling in our lives, referring back to old memories, wondering about what was next. Laughing a lot, not just a little, but a LOT. That is going home. I forget when I leave, and when I return, I remember. Family is important to me. To be with people who have known me my whole life. To be with people who knew my father his whole life. Though those numbers are getting smaller, they are still there. And I learned about cousins that I had not seen since I was a child. That are my age, with children Shea's age...People with similar blood, similar lineages. I leave "going home" almost always promising to do better to keep in touch with my family. Once I get home, my life seduces me and the promise gets further from my heart. I have gotten better though. I do call my brother regularly, and since her husband (my Uncle Jerry) died a couple years ago, I email and send cards to Aunt Marlene on occassion. I can do better. I will do better. Ask me how I am doing. Help keep me on track if you think of it. I want to stay connected to this feeling of connection to something greater than myself, the "going home" connection.

More will be revealed. Tonight I visit high school friends. I don't have the same warm feelings about going there...I would like to make friends with that part of my life...stay tuned!