I spent the past two days in northeast Ohio (where I lived in the second half of the eighties). My time there was personally turbulent but never anything less than interesting (in retrospect).
It's been 21 years since I left there. If I hadn't, I probably would've drank myself to death...period. In the little area I lived in, there were 88 bars (back in the day) and not much else to do. I can tell you, I was drunk in every single one of those bars at one point or other.
To paraphrase Thomas Wolfe, you really can't go back. Just being back where I used to live felt, if nothing else, surreal. I described it to a friend there thusly: "It's like being somewhere you've never been but knowing where everything is". Everything changes...which is probably a good thing...but it was disconcerting to me just how much things had changed. Familiar storefronts bore strange names. The people in the streets looked different. Lots of my friends are gone, and those remaining had been replaced with older, more 'grown up', versions of themselves...for the most part.
For some reason, every hotel room in town was booked up, so I had to go a few miles north to get a room. Even the little town of Strasburg had changed. In short, it made me sad. Like a houseplant left untended, the places of my memories had withered, died and been replaced. I almost felt responsible. I momentarily wondered if I had stayed, would all of the old places and friends still be there? Most likely not...but it was just one of those odd moments that I have all too frequently these days.
But as the day progressed, I accepted the inevitability of change and while listening to a friend discussing some upcoming changes in town, I also realized the necessity of it all. It brought to mind a quote by Anatole France:
"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another."
(See! I DID pay attention in college!)
After a longer than usual drive back home, thanks to nonstop rain and some typically slow Ohio drivers, I'm back in my humble hovel and thinking of the changes that have happened to me over the years. I would have to say that I'm a nicer person than I used to be. I don't carry the anger that I used to.
I mentally envisioned the me of today with the me of 21 years ago. Aside from the obvious changes...hair, weight, wrinkles...its almost like two different people. That said, I find myself willing to embrace future changes. As I've grown older and hopefully wiser, I see the inevitable changes in life as adventures...and I'm always up for an adventure. I just usually need a nap before embarking on them now.
The funniest change, at least to me, was in my old neighborhood. I made the familiar left turn onto Ray Ave., drove past my old apartment and on up to the end of the street, where stands a very tiny cow pasture. I used to walk up to see the solitary cow that resided there almost daily. It always struck me as odd that a mere block from my apartment was a cow pasture.
I drove up, stopped the car...and there to my surprise were two cows. Still as lazy as ever, just laying around, but looking content and unbothered by all of the changes going on around them...
It's been 21 years since I left there. If I hadn't, I probably would've drank myself to death...period. In the little area I lived in, there were 88 bars (back in the day) and not much else to do. I can tell you, I was drunk in every single one of those bars at one point or other.
To paraphrase Thomas Wolfe, you really can't go back. Just being back where I used to live felt, if nothing else, surreal. I described it to a friend there thusly: "It's like being somewhere you've never been but knowing where everything is". Everything changes...which is probably a good thing...but it was disconcerting to me just how much things had changed. Familiar storefronts bore strange names. The people in the streets looked different. Lots of my friends are gone, and those remaining had been replaced with older, more 'grown up', versions of themselves...for the most part.
For some reason, every hotel room in town was booked up, so I had to go a few miles north to get a room. Even the little town of Strasburg had changed. In short, it made me sad. Like a houseplant left untended, the places of my memories had withered, died and been replaced. I almost felt responsible. I momentarily wondered if I had stayed, would all of the old places and friends still be there? Most likely not...but it was just one of those odd moments that I have all too frequently these days.
But as the day progressed, I accepted the inevitability of change and while listening to a friend discussing some upcoming changes in town, I also realized the necessity of it all. It brought to mind a quote by Anatole France:
"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another."
(See! I DID pay attention in college!)
After a longer than usual drive back home, thanks to nonstop rain and some typically slow Ohio drivers, I'm back in my humble hovel and thinking of the changes that have happened to me over the years. I would have to say that I'm a nicer person than I used to be. I don't carry the anger that I used to.
I mentally envisioned the me of today with the me of 21 years ago. Aside from the obvious changes...hair, weight, wrinkles...its almost like two different people. That said, I find myself willing to embrace future changes. As I've grown older and hopefully wiser, I see the inevitable changes in life as adventures...and I'm always up for an adventure. I just usually need a nap before embarking on them now.
The funniest change, at least to me, was in my old neighborhood. I made the familiar left turn onto Ray Ave., drove past my old apartment and on up to the end of the street, where stands a very tiny cow pasture. I used to walk up to see the solitary cow that resided there almost daily. It always struck me as odd that a mere block from my apartment was a cow pasture.
I drove up, stopped the car...and there to my surprise were two cows. Still as lazy as ever, just laying around, but looking content and unbothered by all of the changes going on around them...
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