Cropping up into the periphery of conversation of late has been this theme of roots—whether it be music, family or environment.
The thing I’m trying to get my thoughts around is a natural level of comfort.
Living in an urban setting often leaves me with this fish-out-of-water feeling, even though I am a stones throw away from the rural area where I grew up.
So here I am, a renter, in a city—and not just any city but one that’s been deemed conservative.
My pat response to someone that says they used to live in Cincinnati is, “Oh… you escaped…”
The bright lights and assumed bevy of action afforded by a larger blot on a map sometimes leaves me curious about the path I’m ambling down. The net really seems to close some of the gaps though, and I wonder if I’ve some responsibility to dig my heels in and encourage change in some small way.
Then there’s the allure of heading far to the periphery and escape the cacophony of urban noise: be it visual, cultural or just all the damn sirens.
So I wonder… Do we invariably end up in an environment that mirrors our youth (given there was a good home)? Will Cincinnati ever be a destination city? And how will the chihuahua deal with the chick when it’s a full grown hen?