kitlovesbooks (kitlovesbooks) wrote,
kitlovesbooks
kitlovesbooks

ARE WE ALL HOMESICK?


My recent rereading of E.M. Forster's Howards End (see earlier blog post FIRST LOVE) has got me reflecting on the concept of home, which is so central to the novel. Margaret Schlegel marries in part as a reaction to losing the London home she has grown up in, believing that marriage will bring her some stability amid the rapidly changing world that is Edwardian England. When she discovers that her husband has sold the property she expected to be her home and has no particular plan for settling them elsewhere, she is dismayed.
 
Marriage had not saved her from the sense of flux. London was but a foretaste of this nomadic civilization which is altering human nature so profoundly, and throws upon personal relations a greater stress than they have ever borne before.
 
Our civilization has only gotten more nomadic since that time, and many of us have moved so many times in our lives that we have literally lost count. (How many times have you moved?) Though there are certainly benefits to be had from all this change, I suspect that we do suffer a spiritual wound from our restlessness, as Forster suggests. I know that I envy friends whose parents still live in the houses these friends grew up in--ours burned to the ground when I was fifteen years old, and my mother lives in an apartment now.

In April of 1997 our family moved from the apartment in San Francisco that was the only home the Pie and the Guy had ever known to a three-bedroom home in Berkeley. It was an improvement in many ways; for example, the kids, who were six, had a yard to play in for the first time. The Guy expressed his angst about the move bluntly--he has always had a special gift for understanding and expressing his feelings. We tried to prepare the Pie for the move. We took pictures of him in the new house, empty of furniture, and of the old apartment, and put them in the appropriate boxes on a calendar to show that change was coming. We weren't at all certain he understood the plan, and we were anxious about how he would react. But he seemed to take it in stride--there was no increase in toileting accidents or in the frequency of the aggressive outburst that were so common then. 

That summer we spent a few days at a camp in Marin County for the families of kids with special needs; we all had a wonderful time. When camp was over we signed "home" to the Pie as we climbed into the car for the return trip. He responded with intense excitement; we were a little surprised, but pleased. All the way back to Berkeley he insistently signed "home" to us, demanding that we sign it back to him again and again, till we began, uneasily, to guess the truth. As we neared the house he made grunts of protest, and as we pulled into the driveway he burst into desolate wails. Our hearts ached for him. From then on, our Berkeley home was never "home" in sign language. To this day we use the sign "house," instead.

On several trips to our old neighborhood in San Francisco the Pie has insisted that we revisit our old street. Once, as we stood at the locked gate to our building, he signed "keys" insistently, till we showed him that our keys no longer fit that lock. Even though he loves Berkeley and his life here, I think there will always be a piece of him that wishes he could go back. And perhaps he vocalizes what many of us would feel if were let our emotions bubble as freely forth as the Pie does.   
Tags: e.m. forster, homesickness, howards end, the pie
Subscribe

  • WE STAND AT THE THRESHOLD

    In a few weeks the Pie will begin his transition to living in his own home. He is twenty years old, a good age at which to leave the nest. But of…

  • LESS INCLUDED?

    When I first began blogging, last summer, a friend warned me that a blog that included everything would not find a readership; she advised me to…

  • HOPING AGAINST HOPE

    I have a love/hate relationship with hope; I've written an entire novel about it. I have often found myself in the position of hoping deeply and…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 2 comments