Home, In Retrospect

I was born and raised in a town in rural Ohio. I think I've ran across two people my entire life who knew it's whereabouts in a conversation. There are about 5 churches at my last count, all with regular attenders. We have one stop light, one general store, and a soft serve stand that's been going strong for as long as I can remember. School is a bus ride away; across corn fields, around hills and over some hills, too. That's Ohio for you, lots and lots of hills. You can see them all the way out to the horizon, covered in trees were visible any time of year. The winters can be pretty insufferable, but if you can make it past that, it's a lot like living in a post card.

If you're looking for thrills and excitement, I hope you like driving. There is no public transportation; if you want to go out to eat, you're driving for a half hour. Come to think of it, if you want to do *anything*, you're driving a half hour! That's what comes from living in the country. You get peace and quiet, but it's exactly that; no fancy restaurants or shopping malls, no race-car style highways, no live production theaters. It's a simple place built on simple, honest living. It is a world unto itself; No street signs selling you dreams of what you could be or what you could have (Not that anyone there cares), no trains, planes, or crowds of people demanding your attention. Though, you may run into a tractor or Amish buggy on your way to work. I suppose that's excitement, right?

The people that live there are far from simple, though. They might come off as simple, I'll give you that. You'll not find a populace outside of Texas with better drinking prowess or of better automotive repair skills. And yes, we have our Rebel Flag wavers. Don't be put off, though.They're hard workers; hard workers with strong work ethics. They don't make a living like a lot of other people do, not unless they're driving for an hour and ahalf to the city (and some most certainly do). The ones that work local make it by the old fashioned way. They're teachers, dentists, and pastors. They're farmers, hunters, and factory workers. They're about as real of people as you can get. We've got our crazies, our drunks, and are socially inept, but in my experience, you'll not meet a group of people that is more compassionate and honest as the folks back home. 

I can't help but look back and smile at all the quiet lessons that were taught to me over the years. Lessons like how to forgive someone; even though they don't really deserve it, how to get up and go to your job every day without fail; unless you're on your death bed, and how to have compassion for the least among us because they are people too. I was taught to believe in true love, that there is some greater plan for things, and that we're all part of something together that is bigger than all of us. I learned about community and sticking together (which is probably why I still love to pay double to shop local). Over the years, I've come to realize that that is my idea of beauty, in a way. Everyone working together, our own strengths and weaknesses combined, to accomplish whatever goal is necessary. As it is for the individual, so it should be for the whole, I believe. 

I moved away recently; first from my home, then from everything I've ever known. I've been watching the process outside of myself with a mixture of amusement and disgust. The best I can say is that it is a strange animal of experiences. You expand your horizons; opening your mind up to new tastes, sounds, and ideas. You learn ways of doing things that you never thought would be possible before. You meet people that aren't different on the outside, but different on the inside in ways you never imagined, who've had experiences you can barely comprehend.

You cannot walk away unchanged. You become a different person, in a sense, and you can never go back. Oh you can go back home, for sure, but in your mind, it will never be quite the same. The world is no longer a simple place with simple goals. You'd merely be sitting in a quiet neck of the woods for a moment. The world is out there loud and fierce and there is no forgetting that. The voice of the world cannot be silenced and it will ask insistently, "Who are you? What are you made of? What do you stand for?" There's nothing quite as frightening as experiencing the questioning, demanding, judging eye of the world upon you for the first time.

So yeah, maybe I was learning how to climb trees while you were learning about the fine arts; maybe I was imagining laser gun battles battles with the kids from the block while you were worried about actual guns; and maybe I was wondering why I was treated different because I was a little geeky when you were being treated miserably just because your skin was a different color. I can't change how I grew up, but I can decide who I become. I'm here now and I'm here to learn from you. I want to know all your stories and all the things I missed living in a place best described as "sheltered". Because some day, I'm going back home. When I get there, maybe I can teach everyone a little about what I've learned. I won't lie to them; hell, I'll tell them it's scary as hell. Maybe, though, I can teach them some things that will help them along the way. 

After all, no one can stay home forever.