Chapter 16: How far did you wander?
“My friends from high school
Married their high school boyfriends
Moved into houses
In the same ZIP codes where their parents live
But I, I could never follow
No I, I could never follow”
There’s a house in Charleston, South Carolina where over 10 generations of the same family have continuously lived. Located at 68 Broad Street, the Daniel Ravenel House, has a rich history.
But that’s not what this is about.
Me at the Ravenel House
What I find interesting is the idea of staying put. When I was in high school, there was no way I was going to live in the same zip code where my parents lived.
I wanted out.
I thought the dream was to have the power to survey the entire planet, then pick our perfect spot in it. Not to accept the geographic fate we were born into. I thought every kid felt that way.
I was wrong.
The Census Bureau says 57% of U.S. adults live in the state where they were born. 37% live in the same county, and one out of five live within 10 miles of where they grew up.
Apparently, a lot of people have no intention of moving far from home.
After living in a dozen different cities in five different states, from Pennsylvania to California, I think it would be cool to be intimately attached to one place. A place, where you know everyone. Your neighbors. Your mail carrier. People like that. But also the vet, the grocery store manager, and the widow walking her dog. You know every street, every shortcut, and the history of every home. You can’t go anywhere without recognizing or being recognized by someone.
I think there would be a lot of comfort in that.
When I was at the Taos Pueblo in northern New Mexico, I met Clarence Mirabal. He’s the head of maintenance at the Taos Day School. When I noticed its hoops needed nets, Clarence helped me out. Since stringing the nets on the not-so-great rims was a challenge, it took a while.
Clarence shooting at one of our new nets at the Taos Day School
So I got to know Clarence. He grew up on the reservation, met his wife when they were in preschool, and except for a short stint in junior college, never really left. While standing on a ladder facing gorgeous Mt. Taos, I got it.
The landscape is lovely. The weather mostly great. Clarence’s family — nuclear and extended — is nearby. So are lifelong friends. His job is important. (Besides maintenance, Clarence fills in wherever needed — from lunch room monitor to substitute teacher.) He knows all the students. They look up to him. He’s needed.
Why leave?
Stability is a gift — if you’re blessed with it. I wasn’t. My father’s job — J.C. Penney’s manager — kept us on the move. Perhaps because of that, settling in one spot never crossed my mind.
I dreamed of far away places. From the time I was 12, I saw myself in California. Which was weird because until I flew there for the first time when I was 20, I hadn’t spent one second of my life anywhere outside the Eastern Time Zone.
Whether we were born into it or we choose it for ourselves, perhaps our place to live is fated.
Which is better? Should we stay or should we go? Should we encourage kids to stay? Or, even if they go, like Clarence, return home?
I talked to his daughter, Jordan. A second-year business marketing major at the University of New Mexico, she plans to return to Taos. “My family is here,” she explained.
Stay home or find a place of your own?
If you were fortunate enough to be born in the USA, it’s a choice. And if I’m teaching kids, that’s what I want them to know.
And think about.
