It has been dawning on me that we will probably spend the rest of our lives in Columbus. This has never really been the plan. Five years ago, I could have told you nothing about Columbus. It was not that I had a bad impression of Ohio, it was more that I had no impression of Ohio. I had never imagined that living in Ohio, or raising a family in Ohio, would have been even a remote possibility. When I took the job at The Ohio State University, I always imagined in the back of my mind that we might move elsewhere. Again, it is not that we haven't liked Ohio -- we have -- it is just that we haven't really thought of ourselves as Ohioans.
That is all starting to change. My tenure review is going well so far. Tenure, of course, will provide permanent job security in Ohio if it materializes. In addition, I am becoming convinced that there won't be many new faculty positions in other places. For various reasons, few seem to care about my field anymore, so I doubt more attractive possibilities will be available in the future.
Thinking of myself as an Ohioan is major shift in identity. I have always enjoyed telling people that I am from Sat Lake City, Utah. People usually seem interested. Sometimes they get a curious look in their eyes ("Is this guy Mormon," I can hear them wondering); sometimes they regale me with tales of their recent vacation to Utah; sometimes they say they've never met anyone from Utah. To be from Utah is to be (slightly) foreign and exotic, in both good ways and bad ways. Moreover, I have a visceral connection to the looming Wasatch mountains and tree-lined neighborhood I grew up in, a fact that becomes more apparent each time I visit.
At the same time, when I go "back home" I recognize changes in the city and landscape. Some of these changes are good, some are bad, but they all scream that the place is not mine anymore. I also recognize problems that I simply didn't see before, for example, the unholy and offensive mixtures of religion and capitalism that dot Utah's ubiquitous advertising spaces.
On this side of the country, my children know little besides Ohio. They were born here, and are connected to this place, just as I was connected to the mountain valleys of Utah. When Nora went back to Utah a few years ago, she wanted to know where all the trees were. They are true Midwesterners. In addition, it is getting awkward to say, "I live in Ohio right now, but I'm originally from Utah." It seems a slight, almost a personal offense, to the good people of Ohio and the opportunities the state has offered me. As I watch the mist coming off the Scioto river in the early morning, see the beautiful rolling green hills, peppered with old red barns, and watch the people chant excitedly "O-H-I-O," I begin to sense a connection to this place. But what does it mean for me to claim this place as my place? Is it the same me, just located in a different place, or is it a fundamentally different me? Is place radically or just incidentally tied to who we are?
I guess, in the end, I am starting to say goodbye to my identification as a Utahan. It will always be a part of me, to be sure, but a part that exists in the past, in memory, rather than in current and future possibility.
6 comments:
Hear not here. Sheesh, Bryan. :) You aren't allowed to start editing my blog though!
Yes so many things I miss about my place of upbringing - Utah, let me list them...family...some friends...mountains. Well OK three because that sums it up.
I'm glad to hear you consider yourself a true Ohioan. Not sure I ever felt like a true whatever it would be called in Illinois. However, I do like to say we are Michaganders. We have felt like this is our place to call home since we got here. We hope to remain Michiganders for a long time. I believe that finding that feeling of connection to where we live changes our view and commitment to the area around us. It is viewed with different appreciation.
count yourself lucky. ohio is a pretty sweet place..it was so hard to leave somewhere that felt like home so fast.
Bryan, I understand completely. For the past 3-4 years I felt like a man without a home. I no longer felt Utahn, but I didn't feel like a New Englander either. Now that we are in New Mexico though, I can say that I am from the mountain west and feel like I have a home again.
Bryan,
This was so interesting. We were starting to feel exactly the same way about New England. It seems like 5 years is kind of a cross-roads where you decide if you are going to be "from" where you are, or if you are going to move on or back. It was one of the motivating factors to move back west. But, truthfully, it would have been fine to be "from" New England too. In fact, now that we are in ABQ, our kids say that they're from Boston. It is a true identity crisis. I feel more at home now, but I know my kids don't. I suppose eventually, we will be from NM. I think you'll be ok if you're from Ohio too.
You summed up very eloquently a conversation/conundrum that Andy and I have as well. I usually say, "I'm originally from Eastern Washington," but we've lived so many places and loved them all. How do you account for the impact those experiences have had on you and how they influence how you see your current location?
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