A Place called Home

Most of us are acquainted with Dorothy’s dream journey to return to Kansas from Oz. After many turns down the yellow brick road and following her encounter with the Wizard, the Good Witch listens as Dorothy repeats, “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home”. Let’s explore this concept of home.

A home usually refers to a house at a particular location, but also implies an emotional connection to that special place.

Sketch, from my memory, of the house that Dad build in 1957 in which I lived from age 6 through 16 (my boyhood home).

The following two images are from The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse by Charles Mackesy. Examine them carefully.

Is “homelessness” a misnomer? Shouldn’t the word be “houselessness”? Don’t those folks unfortunate enough not to have a permanent residence (approximately 600,00 in the US) still have a place that they feel is home?

“Home is where the heart is” is attributed to Piney the Elder, and “Home is where one starts from” is attributed to T.S. Eliot.

I remember as a young man, following my departure from my childhood home, my dear Mother often asked me, “When are you coming home?” to which I would respond, “I’m not sure when I can get back there.” After a period of time, it occurred to me that my parent’s residence was no longer my home. Rett and I established our own home, although we moved it to several different locations. Now, as a man of maturity, I recognize, that the place we consider home and call Merry Mount is where my heart is, and that this home is unique to Rett and me.

I leave you with one of my favorite poems.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee; And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart's core.

-William Butler Yeats

CPW