SRPL Reflections: Never Really Left

For better or for worse, I’m not a big fan of change. During my first day of high school I can remember wishing I was back in grammar school (and that experience was hardly magical but after eight years I had it down pat). I prefer smooth sailing to rocking the boat, continuity over interruptions and longevity over short hops.

However, every rule is meant to be broken and for some reason I have embraced the life of a vagabond over the last 12 years, living in five different places since I was married in 1998. Moving has never been fun, but it was always grounded in some practical purpose and I never regretted it. I often wonder why I’ve been psychologically able to do this when I am so resistant otherwise.

For 25 years I lived in the same house with my parents. They moved to St. James in 2002 (that was rough on me) but even in the face of their departure I had a reason to stalk my old haunts: SRPL. We’ve established I worked at SRPL twice, from 1988 to 1995 and again from 1999-present.

Working there, near my old house, kept me grounded in the surroundings of my youth, and that was comforting. I could still get my hair cut by the same barber I used since I was 9. I could get my car worked on by the same honest group of guys who my family used since 1983. I could eat at the same restaurants, visit the same haunts and watch the town change gradually, and be spared the jarring realization that this was no longer my home.

Don’t misunderstand me; I don’t regret leaving my home town at all. I love the community where I put down my roots, but having one foot in the old place was always a comfort. I can’t explain it beyond that simple feeling. Three times a week I had a reason to be there. Before my parents moved, it gave me a perfect opportunity for a visit (and a free meal!) After they left, I chose a number of different places to dine at depending on my mood.

I realize this is all very mundane stuff, but life often pulls us farther and farther away from our roots and I like that I had a reason to hang on for a while. For many, there is little or no sentiment for where they were raised and that’s fine too. Then there’s the other extreme. For about five minutes I flirted with the idea of buying my parents’ house, but in retrospect that would’ve been a disaster. Embracing the past is one thing. Trying to recapture it is another.

Now, with few exceptions, I won’t have a reason to even drive through the town and when I do I’ll be hit by the jarring realization that this place is no longer there and that place is a Chinese restaurant and on and on. I’m seeing the end of this experience through many different lenses (none of which I like), but I know once it’s over, like high school, I’ll get used to it.