Home (Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeroes)

Part 1 of the “Home” series

I got the idea one day when I was scrolling through the song list in my iPhone. Three of my favorite songs happen to be right in a row because of the alphabet. It amazes me how even the tiniest things grab my attention. I often listen to them, without putting my phone on shuffle. They all have the word “home” in the title, and obviously the concept of home is a huge theme of the song. One day, many moons ago, the idea for the “Home” series occurred. Of course I’m just now getting around to it…

The definition of home has changed for me these last few years, but it has especially been sharply defined since I moved to El Salvador and became a volunteer with Nuestros Pequeños Hermanos.

I remember redefining what home was when I first moved into Clement Hall my freshman year of college at the University of Tennessee. Of course, I still went home often to visit or do laundry. My room stayed the same, minus the few things I took with me to the dorm. However, I remember the first moments of confusion when I would talk with my parents about having to run home for something while I was out and about, etc. “Oh I’m on my way home.” “What, you’re coming by the house?” “No, I mean, I’m going back to the dorm. To my room.” That kind of stuff. Naturally, my dorm room and campus life became a home to me because I did live there.

Of course being accepted into college and then graduating high school months later was a humongous sign of growing up. For some reason though, it became clearer to me once I started having the “what is home” issue when I moved to campus. At first it was just about a physical place, but then it grew to my identity. Where was it rooted? Is it allowed to grow and change? Can my identity take on new colors and shapes and schemes or am I bound by the past and by my foundations? How do you learn and grow without losing who you are? How do I become my own person, an individual, without forsaking my family and friends?

I didn’t have a sheltered life, so I’m not too fond of this next cliché for what it implies, but it works for what I’m trying to say, which is…how do I cease being a caterpillar, break out of the cocoon, and become a butterfly? How can I be something different while still knowing my roots and acknowledging history and loving every moment and person along the way?

All of that started because of a seemingly simple problem of rationalizing my physical location because let’s face it, a lot of your identity can potentially be wrapped up in something physical, like a house.

I moved back to my parents for the summer after freshman year, then back to the dorms for sophomore year. However, the big change really took place when I didn’t move home pretty much at all the summer after sophomore year in 2011. I had a mini-term class which began the day after the spring semester officially ended. It was also 4 hours long, every day for 2 weeks. That’s a lot of driving from Lenoir City to campus for just one thing. Then, the day after the mini-term class ended, my summer class started. Fortunately for me, it only lasted for the first half of the summer term. The point is, when faced with such an odd class schedule and a new job that was only a few miles from campus, I couldn’t really bring myself to move home, to justify all that driving if I was presented with a more economical opportunity.

So for most of that summer, I camped out in my friend’s room at Tyson House, which is the Episcopal-Lutheran campus ministry house at UT. I had spent a lot of time there the first few years as a student. While Katie Ann was away being a camp counselor, her room became my new home for the summer. It was great. I lived with a few other Tyson House residents who were taking summer classes. (Fun fact – I was the only female resident for a few weeks until the other girl moved in. That was a new and neat experience as well!) I went back to my parents’ house almost every weekend though. After classes were over, I spent a week visiting family up in Ohio, and then I technically lived at my parents’ house for about week until I moved into my apartment right before the fall semester started.

I hadn’t spent that much time away from home in a long time. (Haha, well, until I moved out of the country. But we’re not there yet.) So what was home? While I still called the house in Lenoir City my home, I also frequently referred to it as “my parents’ house” and not just simply “home.” The change in my vocabulary was an indicator of the shift in my perception of what home was to me. Then, when my family entered a particularly difficult time during my last 2 years of college, we were faced with the possibility of not calling our home, home, anymore.

I remember the sense of panic, of what it would be like to not go back to the place that I call home. Now, I’ll admit to you that I put a lot of stock into physical things as ways of holding onto memories. That is, I keep things and hold onto them tightly because I think they serve as a valuable connection. Even though I wasn’t born in Tennessee, we’ve lived there the longest. I feel like I’ve mostly grown up there, especially in that house. So I found the possibility of saying goodbye to it very challenging.

Then one day, a thought occurred to me. If I can but for one moment lay aside my attachment to the house, what then do I define a home as, if it isn’t in fact a tangible object?

Suddenly, my worries seemed rather trite when I thought about that question. You know why? Because as Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeroes sing,

Oh home, let me come home. Home is whenever I’m with you. Oh home, let me come home. Home is when I’m alone with you.

At least, that’s what they sing in the studio version of this song. I’ve got a live version from a Daytrotter session where they change things up a bit and instead sing,

Oh home, yes we are home. Home is wherever there is you. Oh home, yeah we are home. Home you are me and I am you.

Either as stand-alone verses or in thinking of them together, the message is clear to me. Home is being with the ones that we love. Home in this sense is not a place but instead is a gathering of or a union of the people that we love. Our family and our friends. Whenever we are with each other, we are home.

Now I know that I haven’t been with my family and friends for quite some time, almost 10 months as of this writing in fact. I miss them all very much. I’ve had very small bouts of homesickness. These tiny bouts don’t occur that often, actually. In the beginning I struggled with that feeling. Shouldn’t I feel weird that I’m not dying to go home? Well, the honest truth is no, I don’t have to feel weird. It all gradually became clear to me. I’ve always considered the pequeños of NPH El Salvador as family, so in a way when I came down, I just came back to a very big family. NPH isn’t the one that raised me, but it’s my family nonetheless.

One night, one of the high school girls and I were talking about when I was leaving and why. Though I didn’t have time to explain everything, I mentioned that I would like to see my family and friends. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen them. She thought about that for a few seconds, and without missing a beat responded with, “Well, you don’t have to go back to the United States for that. Your family and your friends are right here.”

She’s right.

So if I’m in the US, El Salvador, or somewhere else entirely, what I do know is that whenever I am with the people that I love, I am home. Day by day, I am forming my identity outside of the physical house that I grew up in. I know for a fact that I am not the same person that I was when I started college, nor am I the same person that I was when I left the US. And that is such a good thing.

Change and growth are so beautiful when we allow ourselves to be open and vulnerable to it. So I acknowledge my roots and that physical home I grew up in, but I also now count an entirely different country and group of people as home and as family. That’s awesome.

So, there’s Part 1 of the “Home” series. In keeping with the original idea, the posts are in order of how the songs appear in my iPhone. Stay tuned for the next post.

Don’t forget to give “Home” by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeroes a listen on the main page! It just might change your life!


2 thoughts on “Home (Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeroes)

  1. You always had many “homes” and we raised you to adapt to your surroundings. Look at where so many of your friends are…most you had to say goodbye to when we reassigned or retired. You know I always called Findlay “home”, but it was because that is where I left my childhood behind and left to bigger and other places. I don’t say better, because, Findlay was where my mom was, and she was always my foundation for “home”. I am so proud that you are truly finding your way and growing up. It is very bittersweet for me as your mom, just as I know it was bittersweet for my mom! I love you.

  2. Nice piece, Ash. Your reflections were very similiar to my own when I left home for the Air Force. Now it is your turn to fly.

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