Homesickness

homesick (hōm′-sik): longing for home and family while absent from them

The little lady at the left, Grace, shown here at five months, just had her fifth birthday on January 9. She lives in Oregon, both near and impossibly distant at the same time. I’ve known Grace since she was six hours old, the only human being on the planet I’ve ever met so early in life.

Shortly after her birth, I was in the hospital room with Grace, her parents, and her grandmother. They asked, “do you want to hold her, Jim?”

“Uh. OK.” (I said nervously.)

And, then, in my arms, just like that, the bond I had felt with the mother and grandmother, was extended to this new little one as well.

I assume there was a birthday party for her fifth. I wasn’t there. And, there’s been this feeling, this knot in my stomach, this emptiness, lately. A feeling borne from being absent. A longing for familiar places and people.

Grace, her mother, and her grandmother, were all part of the group in Oregon that had referred to me as “family.” Although life and relationship with “C,” the grandmother, were fraught with difficulty, the closeness and inclusion I experienced was an extremely significant element of my life for a decade. And, I had “adopted” (in my heart), C’s three children and two grandchildren.

For the most part, that all disappeared right after I moved to California.

America is about to embark on a new journey. Barack Obama will be inaugurated tomorrow and an overwhelming sense of hope and optimism prevails, even in these times of deep economic despair.

And while the rest of the country celebrates, I am ailing with melancholy. I would love to be home for this occasion.

Soundtrack Suggestion

Homeward bound
I wish I was
Homeward bound
Home, where my thoughts escaping
Home, where my musics playing
Home, where my love lies waiting
Silently for me

(“Homeward Bound” – Simon & Garfunkel)

Mundane Yet Meaningful

Vacation is over. The traveling portion of my time away from work entailed six nights in Eugene. And I’ve been back in Marin for four nights now. As a follow-up to my last entry, I can now report that I successfully did find that place of safety and security I was seeking while away, if only for a little while. And the chatter in my mind, well, it quieted down some too. This happened gradually over my time in Oregon, and seemed to have snuck up on me while I was doing, simply, nothing special.

This trip was not about going to an exotic place or seeing wonderful new things. I sought, and found, a blessed zone of comfort and familiarity. Some of the mundane yet meaningful portions of the trip included:

• A monstrous hug from two-year-old Kaleb. (He’s is the younger child of the daughter I never had; C’s second grandchild.) His warm and loving greeting was entirely unexpected, and the gesture tugged fiercely at my heart.

• Lunch with two former colleagues from my time with the Oregon University System, including lots of stories and laughter.

• A hike to the top of Mt. Pisgah on a 90-degree afternoon. This is the most strenuous workout I’ve had in over three years, and I survived it. In great shape.

• A long walk around Corvallis and the Oregon State University campus, including time to sit quietly on a bench at the MU quad.

• Two entire days at the Oregon Country Fair. The photos I took at this year’s event were probably about the best I’ve ever done there. Laura Kemp was, of course, spectacular. And the chat I had with Jill was delightful.

• Revisiting Café Yumm, Café Sienna, the Glenwood Café, and the Dairy Queen on Coburg Road. (Even after a year away, the folks at Café Sienna remembered my “usual.”)

• Going to two movies.

• Shopping without paying California sales tax. (Though I had to UPS a package back to myself before I left Eugene…so I probably paid the tax anyway!)

That’s mostly it. I guess this little essay on “what I did on my summer vacation” is really uninteresting. I suppose I am lucky this will not be graded!

Being There

Here I am: on vacation. In Oregon. Haunting my old haunts.

This is a vacation?

Yes, actually, the best one I could think of.

Now, I suppose you’re asking: what in the world makes this a good choice for a getaway (rather than someplace new and, perhaps, slightly-more exotic)?

I’ve been mulling this over, and I think that it’s not only my desire, but my compulsion, to find someplace safe for a few days. Now, that may sound a little strange, given my recent observations about the lack of security and support I enjoyed here before I left the state…but I believe that simple familiarity (and the accompanying feeling of) safety is what it comes down to.

I went to the Oregon Country Fair for a few hours yesterday. And I’ll be there for awhile again tomorrow. I seek out this venue despite the fact that I am not (and never have been) an organizer, vendor, helper, or any kind of active participant of the event. I am not part of the Fair’s insider culture. All that I’ve ever done, off and on over the course of nearly thirty years, is look at the public part of the Fair through my lens and record selected microseconds here and there. During nearly all my visits, I have gone alone; I rarely interact for anyone for more than a few seconds or minutes. I am not known, and no one knows me. (I only rarely even see anyone familiar there.) In terms of the life of the Oregon Country Fair, I’m about as anonymous as anyone possibly can be. Yet, the event is part of my life, and carrying around a camera and wandering these now well-known grounds in rural Veneta, Oregon is part of who I am.

Today, right now, I’m in Corvallis. At the downtown Starbucks. For what it’s worth, amazingly, I see no one else with a laptop.

Yes, Corvallis. The city I lived in from 1970 to 1990. I moved here immediately after my graduation from college…a few weeks after the Kent State tragedy, oh those many years ago. I have lived no where longer than the twenty years I spent here. By the time I left (for graduate school in Indiana), I thought there would never be a place I’d call home other than Corvallis. However, the time I spent in Eugene from 1995 to 2004 was highly significant, and it is that place that I now call “home”…having now lived in Portland, Roseburg and Larkspur since.

While Eugene enjoys that place in my heart, Corvallis is very special, and is particularly effective in providing me a sense of safety and security. Largely, these positive feelings are ones I associate with the Oregon State University campus. During the time I lived here in Corvallis, and also during the years when I lived elsewhere in Oregon, whenever I was feeling confused, lost, depressed, or desperate (and I think I’ve had more than my share of those times), it was to the OSU campus I came.

And when I got here: I walked. I sat. I read. I slept on the couches in the MU lounge. For some reason, here, I was able to just be. Like nowhere else on earth.

So today I went to campus again. I finished off a novel I’ve been reading the last few days. I sat on one of the benches at the edge of the quad. I watched a few young people walk by (on a Saturday in the summer, the campus is very quiet).

I tried to still my mind.

My mind needs stilling because this visit has produced a huge, and unexpected, emotional reaction on my part. For, while I have a good job, and people that support me, in my current place in California, I have a long way to go before I’ll be assimilated there. In fact, I’m not sure that going native will ever happen for me in Marin County. I’m not one of them. And, often, I think that I’m not sure I want to be.

It’s Oregon where I belong. It’s here where I’m home. If there’s anywhere in the universe where I “fit” – with the culture and the geography – this would be the place.

My mind needs to be stilled, needing a respite from this longing…a longing that has only been brought more to the surface by this trip.

I look out the window at downtown Corvallis… preparing, as I finish this, to head back to Eugene. And wonder…about the winding path this is that we call life.

What could possibly be next?

Soundtrack Suggestion

I say high, you say low
You say why, and I say I don't know
Oh, no
You say goodbye and I say hello
Hello, hello
I don't know why you say goodbye
I say hello
Hello, hello
I don't know why you say goodbye
I say hello…

(“Hello Goodbye” – The Beatles)

Take A Chance On Me

I have written here before about the circumstances surrounding my departure from the Oregon University System (OUS) Chancellor’s Office (CO) in 2004. Leaving was entirely involuntary on my part– as it was for everyone who worked in the Office of Academic Affairs. Starting July 2004, that particular unit of the CO ceased to exist.

(Can you imagine a university without an “academic” division?!)

To a person, those of us who were ousted, in what may be termed a “political coup,” have harbored residual feelings about the treatment we received. But I believe that we all still have an overriding, sincere concern for the fate and future of Oregon higher education.

Since that time, there has been little attempt on behalf of the CO to put back together – on any kind of permanent, coherent basis – some of the critical functions that were lost in the “reorganization.”

Well, until recently.

Early last February, an announcement appeared on the OUS website for Assistant Vice Chancellor for Student Success Initiatives. The new position, as described, entails many elements of my previous job, and I was pleased to see the recognition that these activities are important and need tending-to on an ongoing basis. (It only took four years!)

Now, I have not been actively seeking other work, given that I have been hired into a permanent position here in California…and in light of the fact that I have made major life moves and job changes three times in the last four years. But, because I feel that I left the CO with “unfinished business” with regard to my inter-sector work in Oregon, and because I continue to care deeply about the health and welfare of higher education in the state, I submitted an application. The deadline was February 27.

I was ultimately called in late April to set up a time for a phone interview on May 15. And, when the time came, I thought I did well. The screening committee was comprised of four individuals, three of whom I used to work with; one of them I considered a friend. It sure seemed to be a friendly-enough group (as much as you can tell over the phone). And, I don’t see how any other candidate could have had an interview that even mildly resembled mine, given that I had first-hand experience performing many of those exact duties and producing policy documents on the very issues we talked about.

But, then I waited. For almost three weeks. Finally, finally, I received a rejection letter by mail a couple of days ago, impersonally notifying me that they had hired a candidate who more closely matched their needs at this time.

I can only guess what the story is; of course, I’ll never really know. I might only surmise that while I was talking about my unfinished business in Oregon, they were thinking, about me: “been there, done that.”

Sigh. I seem to be oh-so-good at setting myself up for rejection.

And I did it yet again.

Silly, wide-eyed, trusting, me.

Soundtrack Suggestion

If you change your mind, I’m the first in line
Honey I’m still free
Take a chance on me
If you need me, let me know, gonna be around
If you’ve got no place to go, if you’re feeling down
If you’re all alone when the pretty birds have flown
Honey I’m still free
Take a chance on me…

(“Take A Chance On Me” – Abba)

Kids & Kameras

The daughter I never had lives in Eugene; she’s part of my “Oregon family.” I’ve known this young woman since she was a rebellious adolescent, though, in the present day, she’s an incredibly mature and talented, 27-year-old married college graduate who has two delightful kids herself (one of them little Gracie).

The absolute, without-a-doubt, best part of my existence the past two Christmas seasons has been the opportunity I’ve had to support and encourage “B’s” interest in photography. Last year, it took the form of proposing the idea to her (real) parents that we split the cost of purchasing a digital SLR camera for her holiday gift. The proposal was enthusiastically accepted and, incredibly, I was the one lucky enough to accompany her to the store when we picked up the camera. As we exited the store, she was smiling hugely while she gushed, “this is the best Christmas ever!”

She’s now had a full year with that particular piece of equipment, and has reportedly loved every minute of it. Late this year she purchased another lens for her system, indicating that she was ready, perhaps, to move up a notch in the technology hierarchy. So, this holiday season, as we talked about her wants and needs via email, I offered to sell her, at a hugely discounted price, my current digital SLR. It’s a camera body that’s still being manufactured, only nine months old, under warranty, and little-used by me this year due to a scarcity of personal time (what with all the changes I’ve made in my life recently). This year’s proposal also became a reality and she’s had the camera a little over a week now…luckily I was able to get it packed up and shipped out in time for Christmas. She’s currently busily, and happily, snapping away with this more ambitious piece of equipment.

I’ve teased her about her newly-acquired “addiction” and advised her of the dangers of said Nikon Acquisition Syndrome (NAS)…though I suspect she has not, yet, caught on to the full implications of my warnings. Still, I’ve told her, regarding NAS: there are many more dangerous and terrible maladies in this lifetime.

For me, I hope to get “out there” this year and produce many more photographs than I have in the last few months. That is, perhaps, my number-one ambition. (Thank goodness: it appears that I’ll not be engaged in a job search during 2008!) To support my goal, I’ve taken a couple of photographic steps myself lately. First, I’ve placed an order for the newly-introduced Nikon D300 (see the video below), just out in November to rave reviews, and currently in short supply. (I’ll be getting this camera body when my number comes up in the ordering queue.) Second, I’ve signed up for another full-day session at Nikon School. Hence, on January 27, I’ll be over in Berkeley, sitting a dark room with a few hundred other Nikon nuts, learning more about digital photography. And expecting to be inspired.

If this season is thinking about people you love, and making some plans for the future…well, I guess maybe there’s been a little of the holiday cheer for me this year after all.

Soundtrack Suggestion

Ev’ry time i see your face,
It reminds me of the places we used to go.
But all i got is a photograph
And i realise you’re not coming back anymore.

(“Photograph” – Ringo Starr)