Hometowns - Residence or Home?

Everyone has a hometown. A point of origin, so to speak. Some remain there for the duration of their life, while others need to branch out and maybe try somewhere new. But what exactly is it that determines the destination someone calls home.

People relocate for jobs, climate, significant others and even friends. Everyone knows this, but what constitutes the difference between a residence and a home.

Most of us have had several residences in our lifetime. These could consist of apartments, trailers, condos, dorm rooms, houses, etc. I wonder if we're somewhat like plants and need more space to grow. We've all had to repot a plant at one time or another. This usually happens when a plant outgrows its pot or maybe it has seedlings that are simply out growing their birth pot.

Clearly, there are certain environmental concerns necessary for a plant to thrive. Is it the same for people? It's probably safe to say water and light are needed both for plants and people. Love is a requirement for both; however, most of us have had all of these in each residence.

So, back to my original question...what makes a residence a home? I'm starting to believe it's something deeper. We receive our genetic code from our parents. This is the molecule that consists of two polynucleotide chains in the form of a double helix. We all learned about dominant and recessive traits in biology class. Supposedly we get 50% of our DNA from each parent and 25% from each grandparent. Periodically, there will be a recessive trait that is hidden for several generations and suddenly reappears. For instance, red hair is a recessive trait that may show up seemingly out of the blue. The allele was alway there but masked by the dominant gene.

DNA traits can also show up in personalities. Recently, I read a study that said genetics can account for 60% of variance in personality traits. You may have heard a relative refer to your stubbornness or determination as similar to a passed family member. Can you inherit a trait of an ancestor you've never met? Yes, now I'm veering into "nature vs nurture." The reality is I believe we're each composed of a little of both. We have inherited traits that are developed and molded by our individualized life experiences. Maybe this is what creates the innate pull within us that leads us to what we refer to as home.

This reminds me of Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale, "The Ugly Duckling." It's the story of a bird who is ostracized for being different, only to discover he is actually a beautiful swan. He is rejected by his duck family and has to endure a lonely and harsh winter before finding his true identity and home with a flock of swans in the spring. Andersen's metaphorical fairy tale can often be seen everyday in our own lives when we are looking for acceptance and a place to call home.

Just as the bird, many of us have experienced judgement and inaccurate labels by those in our community, family, and religion. Maybe finding a home isn't as much about a structure as it is a community. You may look like your sister or brother, but you've walked a different road. Maybe you had a previous ancestor who was ferociously independent. These traits, dominant and recessive, combined with our experiences have made you the unique individual you are today. This doesn't mean you don't love and respect your place of origin, or hometown. It's part of who you are. You wouldn't be you without it. Every choice, every bad and good decision on your road to self-discovery will lead you to your home. It might be your hometown. It might not.

My great great great grandmother was a Cherokee. When President Jackson forced the Cherokees out of the Carolinas and across the "Trail of Tears" many never made it. Many died and some chose to become residents on the Cherokee reservation in Oklahoma. Ironically, we often forget these people were forced from the only home they had ever known. Their land was violently stolen from them and they were treated as less than human without any choice in their future. Today we know that type of barbaric behavior to be called terrorism; however, there were some who still refused to conform to the only choices put before them and chose their own path. My great great great grandmother was apparently independent. She snuck off the Trail of Tears and hid in the Ozark Mountains in the northeast corner of a state we now call Arkansas. That's where she chose to call home. It was away from everyone and everything she ever knew, but she built a life on her terms. Like the duckling she experienced extreme hardship and eventually found a place to be herself and live without judgement.

When I reflect on how I found my way to the Sonoran Desert, I often think of my native American roots. My path has been long and winding and not always pretty, but I love it here now. I've found a great community where I fit. I am living. I've learned to dance. I still love my hometown and am so grateful for each and every person who has played a role in my life story, but I think I needed to leave my hometown to find myself. Like Grandma Phoebus and the ugly duckling, I found my home.