I've been lucky. My parents had the spare time, money, and wherewithal to instill a sense of adventure in me as a child. I've heard the crash of the waves on the beaches of both shining seas. I've seen the sun rise over purple mountains’ majesty. And I've smelt the amber waves of grain on the fruited plains. I am thankful for so many of the things my parents have done for me but dragging me around the country in a white Ford Aerostar is at the top of the list. I have so many stories to tell of my travels. From the time I was an arm’s length away from a wild bear in the Mammoth Mountains of California to the time a Ukrainian from Kherson told me he didn't know Americans could work hard until I helped him remodel his house. But the piece of travel that I usually don’t talk about is coming home. Payne put it this way, “Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home…” in his 1823 opera. And the phrase has resonated with the world ever since. It has adorned many American’s mantle in one form or another on an engraved placard or a piece of stained pine with calligraphy and painted flowers around the borders. I always found this phrase pedantic and contrived. Maybe it has to do with the seemingly disingenuous admiration of the phrase or that I hated coming home to Cincinnati. Either way I didn’t gain a full understanding of the saying until I had been away from home for three months. I spent the summer staying at my Aunt’s house and working at a gallery in Denver; one of the greatest experiences of my life. But let’s be honest Ohio sucks compared to Colorado in every sense of the word. It can’t compare on many levels. But what I couldn’t believe was the sense of affinity that I felt when I on my return trip from Denver. I drove straight through Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio in 19 hours. And despite the ludicrous nature of this feat I had an overwhelming desire to be home. I am a person of the opinion that life shouldn’t be comfortable. That living with “creature comforts” is something that humanity has invented to “make life easier” but has in fact been quite a detriment to society. In so many ways our society has been at a disservice because we are so affluent and provide ourselves with ways to disconnect; at least in America. But I did desire the comforts that I am so used to at home: my things, my dog, my girlfriend, and most of all my bed. There is just something about sleeping in your own bed that is so comforting. It’s a womb-like experience I guess and there is no place else where you will feel more rested. I desired all these things and more when I came home but what I wanted more was the comfort of being in the city where I knew all the streets, where I knew I could let my guard down instead of being on alert 24 hours a day, and where I knew how to talk to the people that lived here and feel as though I was being understood. The similarities in Denver are only on the surface. And one might think there isn’t much difference between our two cities. Beyond the obvious similarities the differences lie in the culture, the class structure, and the lifestyles. It’s very interesting as an outsider to observe people who live and operate under different ideals. It’s the little things that are so captivating like idioms, mannerisms, and physicality of the people. These have been the themes that I have paid attention to throughout my travels and it is what marks the difference between our cultures in my mind. And it’s what makes coming home so fun. You don’t feel like an outsider. But these differences along with our similarities are what help a person gain an understanding of humanity. It reminds me of the changing of the seasons. As humans the only true way we can mark the passage of time is by the sunrise and sunset. Our bodies naturally respond to the rhythm of the Sun. And in turn all the florae and fauna respond in cycles. The next most noticeable passage of time is the changing of the seasons. But we can also observe human behavior to gain an understanding of where we are in time, space, and history. And all of these elements are what drive me to keep traveling and then return home again. Because of the eternal question of “why are we here?” plagues my consciousness. But with my questioning answers slowly seem to arise whether I choose to recognize them or not. And calling Cincinnati my home is one of the steps I have taken towards reaching for my answers.
