Damp weather reminds me of England.
My old travel-buddy Tim is on his way there this morning, his first trip “home” in a long time.
So, for one reason or another, England is on my mind. I was last there in 2001, but there is no chance I will ever see it again because travelling is too difficult.
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When I was 8 my parents took me to Southeast Asia for 6 years. After that I went back for 2 years of boarding school.
Aged 16, I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle in New York and I have lived in the USA ever since, with dual nationality.
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Arriving here at that young age one might suppose that I would become immersed in everything American.
A year of high school and 4 years of college might have Americanised me, if things had been different.
Then, I went to work for British Airways. By no means were all my colleagues British. We were a very mixed group, but working for that company probably reinforced whatever Britishness I had retained..
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Gaining flight benefits a year later, I went back to visit relatives. It had been 6 years since I’d left England.
Flying in over London, I had mixed emotions. My heart said “home” but my brain wanted to deny it.
There was no family home to go back to. I was visiting relatives that I had become a stranger to and I was nervous of how I would be received.
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In America, I had never really felt I fit. As much as I loved my aunt, living with her husband was difficult and it was where I lived, but not home.
Back in England I expected to feel, if not home exactly, that at least I would belong.
But people regarded me as a foreigner.
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Over my many years with the airline I was in Britain many times and eventually my parents went back to live in a small town in Wiltshire, not far from my mother’s birthplace.
Mum finally had the little English garden she had always wanted. She seemed content.
With my parents there, I had occasion to visit even more often, but I never regarded it as going home because it just wasn’t.
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Some good friends are in England and I wondered for a while if I could go back there to live.
There is no question that I could have adapted, but there were too many complications and I could not have afforded to live where I wanted.
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After Mum died, my father came to live in the States for the rest of his life. Not long after he was gone, I had complicated and devastating spine surgery. Travelling by air is no longer an option.
Home for me is my little house in Cambridge with my dwindling number of cats and my friend Grant. It is the place where I have been happiest but I think a lot about England.
When people ask where I am from I am never sure how to answer.
I like to think of myself as English but I’m not sure I have the right to claim it, yet I am not American in any true sense. Does it matter in this world that has become such a hodge-podge?
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It’s an emotional thing, wanting to belong, wanting to fit somewhere and I get misty-eyed thinking of England, but does the country I remember even exist anymore?
What I miss mostly though, is the history, the knowing that it is where my ancestors lived.
Roots. Continuity. I’m sure it’s emotional.
This one deserves a second read and some thought before a proper response.
I am a firm believer in the old adage “Home is where the heart is.” but we have always very quickly made a home wherever we have moved to. Favourite country to live in? Impossible to say – there are pros and cons to each!
Yes, for sure.
Your operation sounds awful and sorry it has stopped you travelling by air as I know you’d still like to see more destinations. Although it sounds as though you’re content in Cambridge, I think you would probably like to visit England from time to time.
For some, the sense of belonging to one place, where your ancestors lay, and knowing your roots is really important and I can understand this completely. It’s weird as I’ve always wanted to know about my roots but my other 3 siblings couldn’t care less.
I usually feel at home wherever I rest my backpack, although I do believe Australia is really my home. Returning to southern Italy, I feel very at home in the region also…
I didn’t realise you live in Cambridge near Boston, just left yesterday and in Portland for 12 nights before heading to Montreal (I think). So close to Quebec yet I can’t find a bus that goes from here to Quebec which is where we want to start travelling in Canada, so need to go back to Boston, Montreal, then up to Quebec. 🙁
Well I am in Cambridge NY, not MA. It’s funny how certain places just “feel” right. I wanted to go to Tibet all my life and it was everything I expected, as if I had been before. Of course the Chinese have made a tourist attraction out of it which is hideous.
Surface transportation is not great in this part of the world. I took my mum to Quebec decades ago and liked it a lot.
Ah right, the US has so many place names that are the same across the country.
I remember you mentioned Tibet a while back, it certainly made a lasting impression on you, but shame, it’s touristy now.
I’m looking forward to Canada as have never been.
You will hear people say “eh” a lot and words like “about” will become “aboot”.
Ha, ha, already heard this and instead of “car” with an r, it’s “caa” – too funny!
For me it is difficult just to tell people what town/city I am from – we currently live in East London, but our permanent home is in Langebaan. So I can only imagine how hard it must be for you when it comes to different countries! Still, I think “home” will always be where one was born, even if you haven’t lived there for years. But then again, “home” can also be where you are content and happy. It’s definitely an emotional situation, because we all want to belong somewhere and be part of a specific group of people. But like Berto always says: “It is what it is” (meaning, if you can’t change the situation, you have to accept it).
I think it is very important, and to me at least, you are definitely English. You do not respond like Americans, do not write like Americans, and your written words feel ‘English’. I have added another layer to my identitiy. I am never ‘British’, always ‘English’, and primarily a ‘Londoner’. You don’t live in England, and I no longer live in London, but we both instinctively know what we really are.
Best wishes, Pete.
Thank you Pete.
Such a relatable feeling. This idea of belonging is becoming more diverse and expansive.
One thing that taught me how to be ok with the lack of a singular definition of home— is accepting the abundant nature of my circumstances. It’s never really a lack of something, but the abundance of.
I would like to quote Glasgow’s slogan, I grew up there for a bit, “People make Glasgow”. My personal take is people are homes.
And as for the infamous question for diasporas “where are you from?”, I would like to borrow a friend’s response. He would tell them everything. Take people on a journey, because your life was one.
I hope you find peace wherever you are.