Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Moving on . . .



According to Albert Einstein, “Life is like riding a bicycle.  To keep your balance you must keep moving.”  Apparently, I’ve taken this to heart.  I’m 70 years old and by my count I have moved 33 times; that is, I have only lived in each house/home for an average of 2 1/2 years.  According to Einstein I must be truly balanced.  Frankly, all that moving suggests quite the opposite.

I’ve lived in some places longer than others, of course; 2 1/2 years is an average.  I lived on the farm as a kid for 14 years, the longest location (my first three years were spent in Oklahoma City).  I left the farm to begin my moving around at age 17 as I headed to my first ill-fated attempt at college.  Before moving to Chicago I lived near Killeen, Texas, for nine years.  That’s the second longest.  The shortest, as near as I can remember, was when I moved to Oklahoma City from eastern Oklahoma and after about three months I headed to San Diego.  I wasn’t sure how to count my time in the Navy, since I virtually traveled around the world--on a ship; I settled for listing my shore assignments and counting my ship assignment as one location.

The reasons for moving are manifold: jobs, escaping jobs, lovers, the excitement of new places, and once to be near my mother as she got older and needed me more and more.  The only common denominator I can find is a general and ongoing discontent.

The thing about all this moving about is that I have never really felt that I belonged anywhere.  Even as a kid I was totally focused on getting away from the farm--and the small town nearby and the unpleasantness of most of my elementary and high school experience.  I lived in Texas four different times: twice in Dallas, once in Houston, and then in Killeen, and yet I never felt like a Texan.  Nor did I feel like an Okie either, even though I lived in that state the longest.  California likewise.  And I’ve been in Chicago almost six years, and while I love the city and moving here was one of the best moves I’ve ever made--and I have no plans to move again--I don’t feel like a Chicagoan either; I feel like an import.  No place that I’ve ever lived have I felt like I was a total and complete “fit.” 

I’m running out of time in my life.  I don’t envision any more moves, and maybe with a little more time I’ll settle into being a Chicagoan; but I’m not holding out much hope.  Why this lifelong discontent with my place of residence?  I haven’t a clue.  Maybe in another blog I’ll explore that some; but I’m already uncomfortable just thinking about it.  Maybe I’ll just concentrate on the “balance” part and leave the actual motivation alone.

4 comments:

  1. The amateur psychiatrist in me couldn't help but think of that old but wise saying that no matter where you go, there you are. Perhaps the dissatisfaction lies not so much in where you're living but with yourself?

    That will be 5 cents, please.

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  2. It's good to know I'm not the only one. I lived in Killeen for six years and College Station for eight years this past May. I blame my youth spent as an Army brat on this constant itchiness. I hope that a move to a new house in College Station will provide some temporary relief.

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  3. Interesting about the military kid view. I suspect that's entirely correct, too. Good luck with your move to College Station. It's got to be better than Killeen! And I may explore my own discontent in a future blog. Or not . . .

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  4. Dorien: I'll subtract the $.05 from my webmaster fee.

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