Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety-Jig
Dec. 30th, 2005 12:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
I'm baaaaaack.
That is to say, Toys and I are back from the rounds of visiting relatives. First my parents, back in Michigan, then his, just a smidge farther south of SF here in California. Shy of two weeks on the road, but can I say how happy I am to be home again? Our very own bed, even if it's not actually as comfortable. Eat, sleep, drink water, go buy coffee whenever we want. Go out for a walk. Surf the web... damn. It's nice to be home.
Temper that of course against the jerkoff with the hair-trigger car-alarm just outside our window today - haven't managed to miss hearing that sound in our journeys, but whatever. And it's raining here too, but did I mention Michigan? Snow. Below freezing. And yeah, I grew up there, can handle the cold fine, still, can tell burly stories about how I walked two miles to get to school and back and my hair froze right to my head (true!), but for playful winter cavorting, it wasn't the best weather. I took pictures of Toys in a snowdrift up to his thighs on the last day - that was about it. Otherwise, we huddled indoors.
Now, my folks - dad and stepmom - are sweet people, but you will never in a million years hear me call their house, which is the home I grew up in, "comfortable." It's one of those cramped ranch homes that was designed post-WWII for growing families - meaning more rooms is better, even if they're mostly all too small for whatever they were meant to be used for. In our case, when I was growing up, that meant three extremely tiny bedrooms, my brother's being so small that it was actually more of a walk-through in the hallway than an actual room. Only the largest bedroom still exists in the house, as a guest bedroom (it's still pretty damn small). The rest have been knocked through and remodeled into a sort of weird open floor plan, which means the new "master" bedroom, my parents' room, opens onto the "TV room" via a pair of French doors that are eternally blocked-open with decorative knicknacks such as a wellbarrow full of dried flowers, or an unused rocking chair piled with stuffed animals. So simple things like late-night TV viewing can't help but be kind of inhibitied - it's hard to really enjoy something when your hosts are sleeping only a few feet away behind open doors, no matter how much they insist the lights and sounds don't bother them. Never mind the strange furniture choices which, thanks to the whack floor plan, don't include a couch, just individual Lay-Zee-Boy-style armchairs for everyone. Staying at their place always makes me feel like I'm in the way somehow, even as they fuss and insist and shove extra food in your face. It's a weird reminder, always, of how out-of-place I felt growing up there too.
Revisiting Michigan is always... odd. Invariably I feel thin when I'm there, but not for long - yes, I gained weight over the holidays, somewhere between five to seven pounds - and it stuns me to realize, over and over, just how much of the average day for my folks revolves around eating. Shopping for food, preparing food, eating food, washing up after food... and of those, eating is actually the least important part. That same effect kind of explains time spent in Michigan in general - it rarely seemed to be about the actual moment you were inhabiting, but more about the one before or after it. While you're eating, you're being encouraged to take seconds, even before you're done. When you're sitting, you're being quizzed on what you plan to do next. The whole trip had a rushed and frantic quality, even with all the sitting around. (I was sad not to have had time to manage more than one quick phonecall to
asta77, who otherwise was right there in the same neck of the woods - how nice it would have been to have actually met up and had some time to relax and talk!)
But... yeah. Changes. My hometown has a Wal-Mart now. The downtown coffee shop and massive antique emporium that were staples of our visits are both gone. Change change change. I can't help but talk like an old-timer, whenever I'm there - "this is where such-and-such used to be." It's really not the home I remember anymore, and I suppose that's a good thing. In a way.
I'm working my way backwards through my flist, but slowly - damn, but you all have been busy! Overdue comments to come forthwith, and more as the day goes by.
So good to be back.
That is to say, Toys and I are back from the rounds of visiting relatives. First my parents, back in Michigan, then his, just a smidge farther south of SF here in California. Shy of two weeks on the road, but can I say how happy I am to be home again? Our very own bed, even if it's not actually as comfortable. Eat, sleep, drink water, go buy coffee whenever we want. Go out for a walk. Surf the web... damn. It's nice to be home.
Temper that of course against the jerkoff with the hair-trigger car-alarm just outside our window today - haven't managed to miss hearing that sound in our journeys, but whatever. And it's raining here too, but did I mention Michigan? Snow. Below freezing. And yeah, I grew up there, can handle the cold fine, still, can tell burly stories about how I walked two miles to get to school and back and my hair froze right to my head (true!), but for playful winter cavorting, it wasn't the best weather. I took pictures of Toys in a snowdrift up to his thighs on the last day - that was about it. Otherwise, we huddled indoors.
Now, my folks - dad and stepmom - are sweet people, but you will never in a million years hear me call their house, which is the home I grew up in, "comfortable." It's one of those cramped ranch homes that was designed post-WWII for growing families - meaning more rooms is better, even if they're mostly all too small for whatever they were meant to be used for. In our case, when I was growing up, that meant three extremely tiny bedrooms, my brother's being so small that it was actually more of a walk-through in the hallway than an actual room. Only the largest bedroom still exists in the house, as a guest bedroom (it's still pretty damn small). The rest have been knocked through and remodeled into a sort of weird open floor plan, which means the new "master" bedroom, my parents' room, opens onto the "TV room" via a pair of French doors that are eternally blocked-open with decorative knicknacks such as a wellbarrow full of dried flowers, or an unused rocking chair piled with stuffed animals. So simple things like late-night TV viewing can't help but be kind of inhibitied - it's hard to really enjoy something when your hosts are sleeping only a few feet away behind open doors, no matter how much they insist the lights and sounds don't bother them. Never mind the strange furniture choices which, thanks to the whack floor plan, don't include a couch, just individual Lay-Zee-Boy-style armchairs for everyone. Staying at their place always makes me feel like I'm in the way somehow, even as they fuss and insist and shove extra food in your face. It's a weird reminder, always, of how out-of-place I felt growing up there too.
Revisiting Michigan is always... odd. Invariably I feel thin when I'm there, but not for long - yes, I gained weight over the holidays, somewhere between five to seven pounds - and it stuns me to realize, over and over, just how much of the average day for my folks revolves around eating. Shopping for food, preparing food, eating food, washing up after food... and of those, eating is actually the least important part. That same effect kind of explains time spent in Michigan in general - it rarely seemed to be about the actual moment you were inhabiting, but more about the one before or after it. While you're eating, you're being encouraged to take seconds, even before you're done. When you're sitting, you're being quizzed on what you plan to do next. The whole trip had a rushed and frantic quality, even with all the sitting around. (I was sad not to have had time to manage more than one quick phonecall to
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But... yeah. Changes. My hometown has a Wal-Mart now. The downtown coffee shop and massive antique emporium that were staples of our visits are both gone. Change change change. I can't help but talk like an old-timer, whenever I'm there - "this is where such-and-such used to be." It's really not the home I remember anymore, and I suppose that's a good thing. In a way.
I'm working my way backwards through my flist, but slowly - damn, but you all have been busy! Overdue comments to come forthwith, and more as the day goes by.
So good to be back.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-30 12:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-30 12:45 pm (UTC)Is it really that hot there the year round? I don't know where I got the idea, but I'd always thought your weather would be more temperate, like Japan. But I know what you mean about fashions - sometimes here in San Francisco, I find myself wishing for colder weather, just so I could wear more winter coats.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-30 01:03 pm (UTC)Singapore is almost on top of the equatorial line with Vietnam, Thailand and Indonesia for neighbours. See the sweat pouring down the guys in Apocalypse Now? That's pretty much how it is. 95% humidity year round so it feels stifling for people who aren't used to it. In turn, I transform into a peeling onion with a bloody nose when I go abroad. Fun. :P
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-30 03:05 pm (UTC)I have a similar tendency toward nostalgic, discombobulated introspection about the place where I grew up, where I felt terribly out of place too without knowing why until after I'd left. I'm glad you had a nice holiday, and I hear you about both the gladness at being home and the hulk smash rage at idiots who set their car alarms to go off when the wind blows too hard.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-30 04:37 pm (UTC)I think the thing that gets me most about coming back is like the going-away-to-college thing - you suddenly remember that no one has any say any more over how you spend your time. It's all I can do not to run around waving my arms and shouting "free! freeeeee!"
Not that, you know, my folks are terribly controlling or anything, but... still.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-31 01:40 pm (UTC)Though I am massively jealous that your home base is in San Fran! I dearly love that area. Outside of a lunch at the Cliff House, we never did get to spend time in the city (am still hoping to remedy that someday), but several vacations have been spent in Northern California. My favorite area by far is the Pt. Reyes National Seashore just north of you. Love, love, LOVE that place.
As for your trip back to Michigan, it seems like there's always the inevitable bittersweet nostalgia when you return to a place that was a significant part of your childhood. Even when changes are for the better, it's just so darn different that you can't help experiencing a little sense of loss.
Least it works that way for me. Heh.
And profound commiserations and garbled curses for the car alarm situation. Had that same problem a few years back. It's a real bitch. ::sigh::
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-31 07:04 pm (UTC)But even so... born and raised in Michigan. I'm hard to impress on woods. I guess that's why it kills me to see so much development around my hometown. It's like, leave those woods alone, yo! (cries)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-03 10:46 pm (UTC)I don't blame you. As much as I love Texas, if circumstances were different I'd move out there in a heartbeat and adopt it myself.
Next time you're out this way, we'll have to show you around some more.
That's a lovely offer, thank you! I just might take you up on that, though it would be next year at the earliest.
And oh yes, Pt. Reyes. Just did some camping around there this year. Some damn fine woodlands to be found in the SF area, surprisingly close to the city.
One of the many lovely things about that area is the close proximity of so many different types of topography. You've got woods, beaches, mountains, wine country, etc., all within reasonable driving distance. (Or walking distance. Heh.) That's so awesome.
I guess that's why it kills me to see so much development around my hometown. It's like, leave those woods alone, yo! (cries)
I am so with you on that. ::sigh::
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-31 03:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-31 07:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-31 05:37 pm (UTC)It was nice at least talking to you! Next time you're here, you must sneak away. Or I can drive by and abduct you. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-31 07:13 pm (UTC)But anyway, Happy New Year! With any luck, 2006 will be a better one for us all. (cross fingers)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-31 11:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-03 09:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-04 12:43 am (UTC)I was intrigued by your description of the holiday back in the Midwest, as my holiday was back home to the farm in the deep south (which here means isolated farming country with cooler climate). It went pretty well but I did get sick of me and my children being in the same house as heavy smokers. And my brother-in-law watches the most appalling crap on TV. There was an awful old Patrick Swayze movie called Roadhouse and it was dumb and really really violent. And I said to my 14-year-old niece, ``Don't you think this is really violent?'' (she was laughing at one of the fight scenes), and she just shrugged and said she'd seen a lot worse. ``Well, you shouldn't!'' I snapped. I was quite a sensitive movie watcher as a young thing -- I actually walked out of Spartacus when it showed in our town because I couldn't handle the cruelty. But I must have been quite young, maybe 10, at the time. I don't think my parents realised.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-07 01:57 pm (UTC)And Spartacus... yes, good thing you walked out. I saw that movie in college, and the ending is still a terrible blow, even for an adult - mass crucifictions, and the hero dying right in front of you, cause lost. I remember being interrupted at the door while I was watching it by a couple of evangelist types who wanted to discuss Jesus with me, and I'd felt terribly snappish about that as well - I'd very nearly barked at them, "can't you see I'm watching a religious movie?" The punchline of course being that Spartacus isn't religious at all... but it seemed like it to me. Hard, harsh film, most defnitely.
Poor S's sandals, floating out to sea! It almost makes me want to write a story about their adventure. : )
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-07 11:51 pm (UTC)Spartacus is one tough film. And I remember walking out before the mass crucifixions -- I could just feel that awful awful things were going to happen and I couldn't bear it. I remember walking out of films they showed us at primary school too -- ones about the Black Plague and another one about Captain Scott freezing to death on the way back from the South Pole. Had nightmares about the latter, and my mother had to comfort me by saying that freezing to death was actually a very gentle way to die, that you just kind of drifted off to sleep...
i love what you said to the evangelists at the door -- it FELT like a religious movie.
At the moment I'm having a love affair with the movie Jesus Christ Superstar, which I plan to do a post on.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-08 01:17 pm (UTC)It is, I know. I have no excuse. Sometimes, I just have very low tastes.
And maybe I was just oversexed at the time, but the scene where Swayze does the stand-up "dance" with Kelly Lynch? Hot. Ohmigod. Maybe I just have a thing for standing sex.
At the moment I'm having a love affair with the movie Jesus Christ Superstar, which I plan to do a post on.
I'd be really eager to see that. I'd had this urge to see that movie myself recently - I've never seen the whole thing, just bits of it, and really would like to revisit it and see what I'd make of it. I remember the music from when I was a kid - I used to sing the Helen Reddy song, not knowing even the slightest what it was about.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-07 11:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-08 01:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-08 08:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-10 09:59 am (UTC)The big defining Garret moment for me is in that same scene, where he unzips his pants to show off a knife scar, located well below hipline (no underwear!), and Kelly Lynch says, "a woman?" His reply: "Boy, was she."
Gets me every time.