The Last/The First

"Indeed, so far as its physical aspect is concerned, with its flat, unvaried surface, covered chiefly with wooden houses, few or none of which pretend to architectural beauty--its irregularity, which is neither picturesque nor quaint, but only tame--its long and lazy street, lounging wearisomely through the whole extent of the peninsula, with Gallows Hill and New Guinea at one end, and a view of the alms-house at the other--such being the features of my native town, it would be quite as reasonable to form a sentimental attachment to a disarranged checker-board.  And yet, though invariably happiest elsewhere, there is within me a feeling for Old Salem, which, in lack of a better phrase, I must be content to call affection."

In 11th grade American lit, we read Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter, one of my favorite books.  In the fall of 2011 while living in the Czech Republic, I revisited this book and stumbled across the above passage in the very first chapter, "The Custom House."  At the time, I read it and smiled, understanding exactly what Hawthorne meant, both of us being New England boys.  Since December, I've been home in my sleepy New England town, perpetually annoyed with countless aspects of daily life here, complaining about so many things, and being generally bored.  My dirty little secret, though, is the same as Hawthorne's: "there is within me a feeling for [Westerly], which, in lack of a better phrase, I must be content to call affection."  Home is home.  New England is New England.  And I love it.

Home

For those of you who don't know, I'm leaving tomorrow to return to Europe, more specifically to the Czech Republic.  I'll be living in Brno, working as an English (and potentially German and Italian) teacher, as well as a translator and proofreader.  While I'm looking forward to being back in Brno and in Europe, seeing all my friends, and continuing with life outside of my Groundhog's Day-esque routine that has been the past three months, it does come with a twist of sadness.

My dad has told me several times over the years that his proudest achievement as a father is the fact that my sisters and I talk.  I've always shrugged it off, never thinking it to be something particularly exceptional, but rather just a given, something happening between all siblings.  As I meet more people, see more families interact (or keep each other at a great distance), and simply grow up, I've realized he's right.  At the risk of angering a Czech and a Slovak, I have to admit that my two best friends are my sisters.  We annoy each other, we play jokes on each other, we scream at each other, and we laugh with each other.  The past few months have been an absolute blast for me spending time with them.  One lives here in Westerly, the other in Cambridge, MA, but I've gotten to see each fairly often.  We text message each other constantly, we call each other just to chat, and we just plain have fun together.  We've had the same jokes since we could talk, but we still always laugh.  I figured out at a young age to think of myself not as being one independent being but rather as one piece of a triad, and though we now won't get to see each other as regularly, technology still allows to talk constantly (some might even say too much), share meals together through Skype, and all around be active members of each other's lives regardless of location.  It's a beautiful thing.

The girls and me.

I once read somewhere that the tension that often arises between children and parents is the lack of both sides to acknowledge the other simply as people.  This short passage I read beseeched the reader to look at his parents not as authority figures always wanting to say no, but simply as people who are living their lives, achieving victories, dealing with mistakes and failure, trying to follow their own dreams, and simply doing their best.  As I've gotten older, my relationship with my parents has changed and I've come to know each individually.  Honestly, I don't remember my parents being together, that's just the way it is.  Another dirty little secret is that I don't think I would want them together, as this has helped me get to know each for who they themselves are.  I used to hate being told I look like this parent, that I have the humor of that parent, that I remind you of so-and-so.  The last few months have taught me that there really is no greater compliment.  As far as parents go, I won the jackpot.  Both of my parents work very hard and have passed that work ethic on to my sisters and me.  They've worked so hard so that my sisters and I have all the opportunities we've had, but they've also drawn the line to push us further, to make us work for our own victories and achieve our own goals.  They're still there, though, to help us when things don't work out.  I've found countless aspects, good and bad, of both my parents in me, and I'm excited to see what challenges lie ahead to see what else I can find of them in myself.

People ask me a lot in Europe if it's really difficult for me to be away from my family for such long periods of time, and I answer no, that technology allows us to be in contact constantly.  As I said before, I've been witnessing the familial interactions of several of my friends, both in Europe and beyond, and I have to say that my family really is awesome.  I've talked about my sisters and parents, but it goes even further.  I can't name any family in which the grandson (ie, me) text messages with his grandmother, goes for rides with his grandfather, or calls all three of his grandparents just to chat and see what they're doing.  I don't think it's a common thing for a nephew to text message with his aunts and uncles, to be friends with them on Facebook, to play games against them, and to have next to no barriers when it comes to talking to them, to have no inhibitions about calling them just to chat.  I have such great relationships with my grandparents, aunts and uncles, it's truly astounding.  That then gets passed down to my cousins.  I'm in constant contact with my cousins, be it my 19-year-old cousin calling me to ask for advice about her study abroad possibilities, playing knock-out with my 12 and 10-year-old cousins while talking about the babes of the 7th and 5th grades, teasing the California girl about her sunburn that she calls a tan, or skyping with the 7-year-old down in Florida.  I've lost a lot of friends in the US since first moving to Vermont to go to college, and even more when I moved to Austria for study abroad.  The few I have left, though, combined with my cousins of all ages...well, those are the ones that have me sitting here with a smile on my face.

The point of all this, though, is that while I'm leaving tomorrow to head to Europe for an "indefinite" amount of time, it is definite.  The next few months hold a lot of possibilities, adventures, new experiences, and changes for me.  Who can say what will happen?  I've already got plans in the works for my next great adventure: grad school.  For the time being, though, something has pushed me forward, making me want to go out and spend some time abroad.  I recently finished one of my new favorite books, The Namesake, in which is written, "You are still young.  Free...do yourself a favor.  Before it's too late, without thinking too much about it first, pack a pillow and a blanket and see as much of the world as you can.  You will not regret it.  One day it will be too late."

At the end of the day, my time in Europe won't be forever, and I'll be back in what will feel like the blink of an eye.  I'm looking forward to the next few months, to seeing my friends, to having new adventures, to learning lots of new things.  One thing's for sure, though: you can take the boy out of New England, but you can't take the New England out of the boy.  See you soon, Rhode Island.

Conquering the Atlantic, March 19, 2012.