Home; An Obituary

[rosefox]

Originally posted by steelbrassnwood. The original post is friends-locked; comments are enabled here by request of the author.Buddy died last week. I'd known Buddy my whole life. He lived down the block from us in a small green house with dark blue trim and multiple cars in the driveway. He was a repairman, a gruff guy with a big birthmark on his face who loved

Comments

[queencallipygos]

I lived on a block and in a neighborhood much like steelbrassnwood. I had a very similiar experience.

Yes, I also could have made more of an effort to fit in, and yes, I did largely get the hell out of Dodge and avoid building connections and making that home.

Based on how things turned out, I'd ask steelbrassnwood to consider that rather than thinking that you "turned your back on home," perhaps a part of you realized that where you grew up wasn't ever your real home after all.

[steelbrassnwood]

Oh yes, I have made other homes now with people much better suited to me. Ginny Hawker, a great singer who leads the gospel sing every year at one of the music festivals I go to, says that the real definition of family is all those people whose faces light up when you walk in the room. I have a home or a family at that festival, or walking into the back room of Sunny's in Red Hook

[queencallipygos]

Gladly!

Fair warning, though, that my entries are a bit thin at present - between holiday preparations, running a playwriting contest and starting the research for a series of articles on Shakespeare and the history of clowns, my LJ entries are a bit thin...

Although -- Red Hook! I'm in Clinton Hill, but Red Hook is growing on me and may be the next move...

[anamacha]

great essay. thanks so much for sharing. It made me think of my own neighborhood growing up -- Mafia Don, old people, kids who didn't like me, and only in my ... tempestuous high school years did I find a friend that lived within walking distance.

Growing up was a very strange experience for me, though I didn't know it at the time. I was friends with the old people, who are long since gone. My father left the area when I was in college, uprooting me without my knowledge. When I graduated, I stayed here because there was no home to go back to.

Now I live in an area where I suspect most of the people on the block don't speak the same language as I. I have recently found a bunch of people that I could name as family, but they are somewhat far away, alas.

Musings on home, on where we've been, are good. Thank you for sharing and sparking these thoughts in me.