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Mar. 24th, 2009 09:16 am
Homesickness
I am currently 71.9 miles from where I would prefer to be: teaching English at Napa High School. I'm repeating earlier posts. Feel free to skip it.
I miss my hometown so goddamned much, lately. I don't know why; it's not like Napa was some perfect place, or anything. But I miss walking along the river at Cuttings Wharf, or even the rather pathetic downtown shopping district. I miss the feel of the heat in summer (while Napa gets high temperatures about two weeks out of the summer, most of the time it's nice and pleasant), and the smell of the oaks and the grass that grew everywhere.
Ok, so I grew up on the East side of Napa, which is where most of the houses are. My childhood home last sold for 2.8 million dollars. That isn't a fair price, in my opinion--while it was undoubtedly a nice house, there are far, far nicer homes in Napa, and to be honest, in terms of the building itself, it wasn't a whole lot fancier than my current home. But the land it sat on held a corral and hay shed (which I built, though not alone, of course), and a pool, and a detached garage with an outdoor BBQ pit and fairly nice landscaping. The value of the home was largely in the land around us--at the time, there were only five neighbours close enough to matter: Mrs. Fogarty (nice old lady), the Moore family, the Borges family, the Millers, and the Stensons (a middle-aged couple). Later, another house was built between the Millers' house and our own, and after I moved, another house was built atop the rocky tor where I used to play with my Star Wars toys. It's not as nice now as it was then... but regardless of the fact it wouldn't be the same, I'd buy that house in a minute.
If I won the lottery, I'd try to convince my wife to sell our current place and move to Napa. Sure, it would make my aunt upset, but then we'd be roughly equidistant from all relatives, and we could get a nice place on the East side and live quite comfortably. I'm unlikely to win the lottery, however. And the Cost of Living in Napa is high enough that it won't happen without that, most likely. It's pathetic of me, I know, but I'm not willing to go back home unless I can live like I did then; I have no interest in living in tract housing in Napa. It's not horrible, it's just not home. If I couldn't walk the land like I did as a kid, there wouldn't be a lot of
point in living there.
Here's the kind of thing I grew up seeing, before my parents divorced and all the money was stolen by my mother's second husband:
Of course, if I moved to Napa, I'd miss all my friends here in Sacramento. But some days, that's a small voice in a whirlwind of thoughts about the place. I think, though, the solution is to go there more often--it's only 70 miles away, after all.
I have forgiven my (adopted) dad for a lot of things, but one of the things I find it hard to forgive is removing me from my home. While I've gone through periods of calling San Francisco home--and I love my city, believe you me, and would jump to move there if it ever became a good idea--Napa is home. Napa is where my thoughts go when I'm restless, and I want to drive aimlessly and remember. Napa is where my first kiss happened, where my first girlfriends lived, where I learned to ride a horse, where I learned the joys of boating, where I learned to raise my own meat (not that I want to do THAT again), and where I go in my mind when I need serenity.
We all have a place in our hearts and minds that we visualize when we need mental space... mine is in Napa, standing on a rocky outcropping on the edge of a 50 foot drop, looking out over a small valley as hawks circle below me looking for prey, the silhouette of Mt. Saint Helena off to the right, in the distance.
Ah, I feel better now.
I miss my hometown so goddamned much, lately. I don't know why; it's not like Napa was some perfect place, or anything. But I miss walking along the river at Cuttings Wharf, or even the rather pathetic downtown shopping district. I miss the feel of the heat in summer (while Napa gets high temperatures about two weeks out of the summer, most of the time it's nice and pleasant), and the smell of the oaks and the grass that grew everywhere.
Ok, so I grew up on the East side of Napa, which is where most of the houses are. My childhood home last sold for 2.8 million dollars. That isn't a fair price, in my opinion--while it was undoubtedly a nice house, there are far, far nicer homes in Napa, and to be honest, in terms of the building itself, it wasn't a whole lot fancier than my current home. But the land it sat on held a corral and hay shed (which I built, though not alone, of course), and a pool, and a detached garage with an outdoor BBQ pit and fairly nice landscaping. The value of the home was largely in the land around us--at the time, there were only five neighbours close enough to matter: Mrs. Fogarty (nice old lady), the Moore family, the Borges family, the Millers, and the Stensons (a middle-aged couple). Later, another house was built between the Millers' house and our own, and after I moved, another house was built atop the rocky tor where I used to play with my Star Wars toys. It's not as nice now as it was then... but regardless of the fact it wouldn't be the same, I'd buy that house in a minute.
If I won the lottery, I'd try to convince my wife to sell our current place and move to Napa. Sure, it would make my aunt upset, but then we'd be roughly equidistant from all relatives, and we could get a nice place on the East side and live quite comfortably. I'm unlikely to win the lottery, however. And the Cost of Living in Napa is high enough that it won't happen without that, most likely. It's pathetic of me, I know, but I'm not willing to go back home unless I can live like I did then; I have no interest in living in tract housing in Napa. It's not horrible, it's just not home. If I couldn't walk the land like I did as a kid, there wouldn't be a lot of
point in living there.
Here's the kind of thing I grew up seeing, before my parents divorced and all the money was stolen by my mother's second husband:
Of course, if I moved to Napa, I'd miss all my friends here in Sacramento. But some days, that's a small voice in a whirlwind of thoughts about the place. I think, though, the solution is to go there more often--it's only 70 miles away, after all.
I have forgiven my (adopted) dad for a lot of things, but one of the things I find it hard to forgive is removing me from my home. While I've gone through periods of calling San Francisco home--and I love my city, believe you me, and would jump to move there if it ever became a good idea--Napa is home. Napa is where my thoughts go when I'm restless, and I want to drive aimlessly and remember. Napa is where my first kiss happened, where my first girlfriends lived, where I learned to ride a horse, where I learned the joys of boating, where I learned to raise my own meat (not that I want to do THAT again), and where I go in my mind when I need serenity.
We all have a place in our hearts and minds that we visualize when we need mental space... mine is in Napa, standing on a rocky outcropping on the edge of a 50 foot drop, looking out over a small valley as hawks circle below me looking for prey, the silhouette of Mt. Saint Helena off to the right, in the distance.
Ah, I feel better now.