The Places of My Life I

Playing gently in the background as I write this essay is the Beatles' tune "In My Life." For those old enough, or musically curious enough, to know this hauntingly ruminative piece, you know the words of the first verse:

"There are places I remember all my life,
Though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone and some remain.
All these places have their moments
Of lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I loved them all..."

We are products of so many things in life--of the accidents of birth, of our family of origin, of the places we were raised, of the things that did or didn't happen to us. It really is quite ridiculous to hold a belief in the complete freedom of the individual since so many of our deep patterns and grooves were set long before we had the conscious awareness of our own choice. The "myth" of complete freedom of choice is taught us by people who probably wished their lives were freer. In any case, we are shaped by the people, and the places, where we have been. They stamped their influence on us deeper than the brand on a steer, and in this and the next two essays I propose to tell you about some of the places of my life. The people who shaped me--well, I will tell you about them in other essays.

Let me begin, however, with reflections on "fitting" someplace in life.

Place and "Fit" in Life

I have always admired those who just seemed to "fit" in the place where they found themselves. Let me give some examples of this, because I am sure you know the same kind of person (maybe you are one of them). Take for example "Aaron" (not his real name). He and I were in law school together, he as a shy and slightly fearful recent college graduate and I as a 44 year-old "mid-career" guy. We have been out of law school eight years. When I saw him at the gym last week he informed me that he had just bought the law practice of some older guys who had built a pretty sizable case-load over three decades in his home town. "Aaron" is now the owner of a law practice, and he has quickly expanded it to three nearby towns. With his energy, street smarts and focus (he only works on personal injury cases), he will not only make a name for himself but will rake in a tidy fortune over the years. Then, there is "Alex," another former law colleague. He struggled in law school even though he, like I, was an older student. His former profession was chiropractic, and he always had the ambition of being an consultant/attorney on personal injury cases involving spinal or head injuries (admittedly, not too many are rushing into that profession, despite its lucrativeness). He has been able to do this, and is now known as a leader in the field.

These are stories of people who have "fit" into their professions, though "Aaron" also fits perfectly into the place he lives. I also have other friends who just seem to be in the right geographical location for themselves. One man I know served as pastor of an active congregation in a university town for 35 years. He himself wasn't an intellectual, but he had enough ability and interest to draw upon that type of person and incorporate them into his congregation that his church became one of the leading places in town for religion and cultural life. He just seemed to "belong" right where he was, and his life and work grew out of the sense of his belonging there. I know many, many people like this. For many of my Kansas friends, it seems like they were made (or vice-versa) for the life on the plains. Their work, family, way of conceptualizing life, derivation of pleasures, all flow from their rootedness in a particular place.

Returning to My Life

Part of the confusion that has attended my life is a sense that I don't really have a feeling or a sense of where I belong--either in profession or in place. Much of this is derived from a sort of self-centeredness that believed for years that since I was so special I ought to be able to flourish anywhere I hung my hat; part of it also derives from an almost autistic-type of absorption that often grips me, a focus and determination that seems to render any physical location rather irrelevant. Yet, when I step back from both my arrogance and my focus, I realize that I don't have a place I easily can call "home." This is not the result of people being "cold" to me or inaccessible; it rather seems to emerge from a sense that I have to "think about" every place where I find myself and, once I begin to think about the place, its "magic" and "drawing power" is lost on me. Often a person who feels he doesn't belong in a place will write about a "utopia" or "erewhonic" place (named after the 1872 book Erewhon by Samuel Butler) where things are different or ideal or better than here. But I feel no inclination either to escape to a different world or imagine a more perfect place for myself.

Porphyry, the third century CE philosopher, could write of the great Plotinus, the founder of Neo-Platonism, that he was "ashamed of being in the body." I, on the other hand, seem to be ashamed of being in a place. Some have tried to comfort me with the thought that with my broad learning and internationally-read web-site I should consider myself a "citizen of the world." But then I remind them that the person who supposedly invented the concept of cosmopolitanism, Alexander the Great, only did so because he was first of all fiercely devoted to being a Macedonian (and not a Greek).

I have spent meaningful chunks of time in nine places in my life: Darien CT (1952-67); Atherton/Menlo Park CA (1967-70; 1974, 81-82); Providence RI (1970-74), Hamilton, MA (1974-77); Boston, MA (1977-80); Tuebingen, West Germany (1980-81); Portland OR (1982-90); Central KS (1990-96) and Salem OR (1996-present). Each of the places has left its indelible mark on me, and I can say that I am the "product" of each place, but I don't feel as if I really "fit" into any of the places. Maybe "fit" is all a matter of perception anyway--you fit if you want to do so. But I think it is more than that--it is a combination of connection either with people, your deep past, the values of a place, the rhythms of its life, the climate, the place you live, the way you structure your day. Let me talk of a few of these places, whose sights, sounds and smells still accompany me after all these years.

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