The answer is I have finally overcome my geographical identity issues.
I have lived in four states. In California, I have lived in the north, central and south. My travels have taken me to most other states and some foreign countries.
But Tracy is home.
Home is not a place as much as it is a feeling.
There are places that are nice to visit and are perfect for other folks, but they are not home for me.
Friends love living in North Dakota where the weather is a combination of extreme summer and winter. Other folks would not stop dodging huge storms in Florida. Home cannot be the weather.
Some delight in the simple life of rural Nebraska, while others sleep soundly amidst chaotic Manhattan. It is not the population density.
It certainly is not the economy. If it were, I’d move to Dubai.
We like to travel and see new places because each one affirms our belief that Tracy is home.
I have walked into a pub in London or a café in New Orleans and found instant friends. The welcomes have been warm. Yet, if I wanted to become anonymous, it would be easy.
That is not possible in Tracy — at least for me. Going downtown to buy a shirt, I can spend half a day seeing people I care about. I know some of their personal histories. I know what ails and irritates them.
It may not be easy for some people to let others know or be known by them. For me, home is where you grieve over deaths, feel joy over births, and ask how the kids are doing in school.
Home is where people get angry with you, miss you when you are gone and hug you when afraid.
Home does not always have a hearth, but it always has a heart.
It’s like this: Richard Hughes at Richard’s Men’s Store knows my size, and Cindy at the Mandarin Villa brings me hot oil without my asking.
On the reverse, when I go into their places and ask how they are doing, I really want an honest answer. And I get it.
• Mike McLellan can be contacted by calling and leaving a message at 830-4201 or e-mailing him at DrMikeM@sbcglobal.net.
