You would never imagine it from the simulacra of an existence that I show you on Facebook, and the stagnant appearance of mature growth but I realize I’m getting old. I’m two years older than my dad was when he was rushed to the hospital for a Gall bladder attack which we of course thought was a heart attack which brings that mortality thing into crystalline focus. I’m at the point in life where I think about my own death, not in that I think it’s eminent but that it *could* happen.
I’ve filled these 4 plus decades in several countries and had several homes in locales that people only dream of on a map and the ONLY home I ever wake from a dream thinking is still my residence is the house in New York I grew up in. I am never ripped from a REM cycle groggily thinking “wow I dreamt I was Home in (Newport, Bangkok, Philippines, Indonesia, Shanghai etc)
I am and will ALWAYS be a New Yorker.
New York of my Youthful dreams were the Landmarks: Empire State Building, Statue of Liberty and of course the Twin Towers. It was when the Yankees Sucked and the Mets were good, as were the Jets and Giants. There were even some memorable NY characters who are no longer with us who graced the Front Page of the News: Mayor Ed Koch, and Governor Mario Cuomo and some loud Big mouth real estate Guy on 5th and 56th who is still the same if not for assuming his multi-arm weaponized form of Vishnu.
But everything was changing and ever so rapidly at that. I remember the first few times I returned home after I moved from New York, even before 9-11, it was rapidly changing or as I would joke to my friends when I would return to California “The rebuilding effort is going smoothly since my departure.”
And then you had September 11th which brought that punchline to a screeching halt. My parents had the Kennedy assassination, we had 9-11, the defining generational disaster to sear into our consciousness.
At 24 years old on September 10th 2001 if you asked me what my future held I would have told you:
“Graduate Chiropractic College, move back to Long Island, start a practice, Get married etc…”
The next day changed me, and probably in ways I’ve never even thought about, certainly not then. I didn’t grow up that day, per se, but I was not a kid anymore.
It didn’t just alter the most famous skyline in History it changed ME, The twin towers were more than a physical landmark to me, but also a metaphor for gaining my bearings on the way home. Here I am, almost as long ago as I was old that day, living out of suitcases in hotel rooms, practicing a form of healthcare which stability is defined as owning a brick and mortar practice instead in a region where my profession is not only not understood, but unrecognized if not unregulated, no wife and no kids (Insert Joke here about how many I don’t claim) nothing you would ever mistake for “Home”.
How did it come to this?
This is what happens when you lose your way upending your roots. You become, as I’ve mentioned before in a rhetorical way, Homeless.
Dads Gone to the next world, Moms in Hurricane Alley and my Brother is in the Midwestish, I have nothing in New York to return to.
And yet every other “home” I’ve ever been, all of which I’ve honestly loved and left a piece of me behind, that’s not home. To my friends in these locations, who want me to stay, I tell them maybe one day this will be home, but not now, not quite yet.
However if we were to be honest with ourselves it’s starting to look that I won’t find my way Home, at least not in this life. And Maybe, that was the the lost metaphor all along, after all these years Without the landmarks like the towers there’s nothing there to guide me Home… 😉