The question on the table is this: what do I miss about America? And friends and family don’t count.
Well, I think the answer is that if friends and family don’t count, then I’ve got nothing. What was great about my life there had nothing to do with geography. It had to do with my family. With the talented, passionate people I surrounded myself with.
To be honest, I have been feeling nostalgic lately, but not for my country, per se. Rather for jumping around in packed basements, so close to the band that I could smell the beer on the singer’s breath, staying up ‘til 5am singing Replacements songs while Nate played the guitar, for the old reservoir (when you still had to squeeze through the crack in the padlocked gate) and jugs of wine on deep humid summer nights. For dance parties at Endless Nameless, touring bands in my kitchen eating bagels from Trish the next morning, for long road-trips, and waking up on the floor someplace like the Kosher House in Missouri to the sound of Eric shouting at the Modern Machines: “wake up, motherfuckers! It’s time to go to Rock City!” For late nights at greasy diners with my friends, everyone writing songs or stories or drawing cartoons on the back of their placemats and believing anything was possible.
But well before I left Milwaukee I’d backed away from this scene. And why? I’m not going to lie. It was partially all the drinking. I wasn’t 21 anymore, and I couldn’t keep going that way forever. But also, it was because I was realizing it wasn’t really my world. I wasn’t contributing anything to it – I was just living in it. I watched all of my friends go on tour, put out records, produce videos or set up art shows. I supported them. I was happy to. But I wasn’t adding anything. I loved living in that world, but it wasn’t enough anymore to just live in someone else’s world, however loud and passionate. Maybe I wasn’t brave enough then. Maybe if I went back now it’d be different. But I’m not there now. I’m here. And I feel like I’m doing something here. Or starting to, anyway. I’m writing again. And not just in this blog. I’m actually writing again. I’m inspired by things I’m doing and seeing. I’m going to volunteer with a really cool community organization here. I’ve swung around in the trees on ropes like Tarzan, stayed up ‘til 4:30 having real conversations, made friends with people from a dozen different countries, and I’m (ever-so-slowly) learning another language. This life is not perfect, but it’s actually mine. And when I go back to visit my old pals, it’ll be like no time ever passed. We’ll slip right back into these places in each other’s lives that we’ve been keeping warm for each other. Because that’s how friends work.
So do I miss America? Of course, because it contains the people I love: my niece and nephew, my parents, brothers, and sister-in-law. My amazingly talented, strong, stubborn friends, many of whom never say die. Even when others might say that they should. Might I go back someday? I guess I might. But if I learned anything from the happiest people I know, it’s not to worry too much about what I’ll do next. One step at a time, and it’ll come to me.
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| It says "I love Szczecin." |
Is daily life much different there than here? I assume there must be cultural, political and other things that are different, but what is a normal day like for you? I'm just curious. Smiley face.
ReplyDeleteSome things are, some aren't. Obviously, right? Good answer, Rachel. It's a good thing you asked though, because I never think to write about day-to-day life. It doesn't seem like anything people would want to read about. But the more I think about it, it kind of is interesting. I'm right now working on an entry answering your question.
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