Homecoming
I graduated to my first set of educational lessons from Minnehaha Academy in Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA several years ago. At that point in my life, I had gone to the school for nine years when I vacated the halls for the final time as a student of it's academia. I made many friends, I learned many things, I met many wonderful teachers, I played many sports-- some on the field and some on the dance floor; and I left, as we all do, to pursue the rest of my life.
There is a phenomenon called "homecoming" associated often with primary, secondary and advanced education. If you are unfamiliar, it is a week or weekend when all attendants of said educational facility re-congregate to say our 'hello's' and 'how've you beens'. Minnehaha Academy's homecoming is tomorrow.
Now, I must go, my husband (and fellow alum) is the head soccer coach, so he has certain employment obligations to return; and being the dutiful wife (and avid sports fan) I will attend and probably duck my head from fellow alums I'd rather not see. No, the point of this post is not to hash over what former crush I may run into or what bully I will make peace with; it is about the idealogue at all: HOMECOMING.
That presumes that Minnehaha Academy is my home. Or WAS my home. To a degree, the description is apt. I spent more time per day/week/month/year there than I did anywhere else for the formidable years of my youth. I made many friends I still keep. I met wonderful teachers who have inspired me in my pursuits. I learned more there that I probably did any other single place in my life: yet, was it my 'home' to return to?
Let's table that (phrase stolen from a friend) and think of the deeper question I would like to ask, which requires a slight description in president. We all return, do we not, at one time or another? We all want to show our face in our day of success and hide it in our night of failure. We all yearn to return to a place where we felt that, even if we don't 'belong' per se, we at least have a vested moment that belongs to us in the analogue of the institution's history. We all yearn to return gloriously; victoriously, do we not? And why? Because we want to be WELCOMED back, and not just haphazardly show our face. We want to be known and remembered for who we ARE, not who we WERE. We want people to see and feel how we've grown, and we all want to see success in our own eyes.
Many of us hide from these events under the guise of not caring, or it being 'lame' (that's my 1990's term, you pick your own); but we all know that's not true. But the sheer fact that things like 'Homecoming' exist and continue to exist underscores their importance to us. Like John Mayer, we want to scream at the top of our lungs, "I just found out there is no such thing as the real world!", or some such nonsense which speaks to our current mental/emotional state; to all of those who knew us with buck teeth and a bowl cut; to prove that we were more than our headgear and christmas tree sweater-- to prove that we MATTER.
And we all DO matter, but why is it so important for us to 'prove' it in our own minds and hearts? Why is it so vexing to the human spirit to be welcomed back from whence we came? I think we find them important because there is a greater homecoming which we yearn for, deep in our soul. Like a bird calling for it's unseen mother; you know she's out there with the worm, and you will call with aching lungs until she comes. We've been somewhere in our hearts, in our souls and we wish to return. The questions are, how? and when? and where? They are the questions everyone asks at one time or another, just posed different ways.
The answers are elusive and yet easily declared. We, like with our alma maters, want to deny that it is important to us. We want to deny that the people of our past had and have any effect on us. We want to look for our own answers rather than take those that stand right before us....
So then the bigger question becomes: What do we consider our 'home'? The answer means more to you than I'm sure you're willing to admit.
'Home' is a tricky word, one which we all define differently. For some it is a state, others a state of mind. For still others it is a person or people. Yet others still it is a season or a geographical region. My favorite teacher, who I met long before going to Minnehaha Academy, was homeless. He wasn't from anywhere. He was by most accounts a bastard child living in the streets or which ever friends house would have him that night. When I met him I was just a child, and the way he lived was so foreign to me. The older I get, the more I start to understand it. The older I get, the more I feel a desire to live that way... and then the curiosity hits me if there are others, people from my past, friends lost upon the diverging roads who also see life this way... who maybe want to take up the road again together and see if we can't bind some of that youth to the future.
So it is I return, to find old friends and acquaintances and seek out our past, our COLLECTIVE past, with grand pomp and great import; playing Duran Duran, rehashing plots of 90210 and reliving the time we cut class to go to Taco Bell. And all the while we continue to look, with keen eyes, for the solution to our heart's puzzle... waiting to crash through the halls and scream it out: "I've found it... I've found...!" And we want those who knew us 'when'-- before our 401k, our school debt, our broken down Volkswagon, and our career misadventures-- to be the first to hear it. For when you find what it is that is TRULY your home, you never want to leave it, and you want to tell those who matter most.
So, if you were my classmate, whatever you find to be the reason for your desire to return to Guido Kauls Field in Minneapolis tomorrow; I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with who wins the soccer game. (though, if they don't win, I'm positive my husband will be rather upset...)
Go Redhawks!
There is a phenomenon called "homecoming" associated often with primary, secondary and advanced education. If you are unfamiliar, it is a week or weekend when all attendants of said educational facility re-congregate to say our 'hello's' and 'how've you beens'. Minnehaha Academy's homecoming is tomorrow.
Now, I must go, my husband (and fellow alum) is the head soccer coach, so he has certain employment obligations to return; and being the dutiful wife (and avid sports fan) I will attend and probably duck my head from fellow alums I'd rather not see. No, the point of this post is not to hash over what former crush I may run into or what bully I will make peace with; it is about the idealogue at all: HOMECOMING.
That presumes that Minnehaha Academy is my home. Or WAS my home. To a degree, the description is apt. I spent more time per day/week/month/year there than I did anywhere else for the formidable years of my youth. I made many friends I still keep. I met wonderful teachers who have inspired me in my pursuits. I learned more there that I probably did any other single place in my life: yet, was it my 'home' to return to?
Let's table that (phrase stolen from a friend) and think of the deeper question I would like to ask, which requires a slight description in president. We all return, do we not, at one time or another? We all want to show our face in our day of success and hide it in our night of failure. We all yearn to return to a place where we felt that, even if we don't 'belong' per se, we at least have a vested moment that belongs to us in the analogue of the institution's history. We all yearn to return gloriously; victoriously, do we not? And why? Because we want to be WELCOMED back, and not just haphazardly show our face. We want to be known and remembered for who we ARE, not who we WERE. We want people to see and feel how we've grown, and we all want to see success in our own eyes.
Many of us hide from these events under the guise of not caring, or it being 'lame' (that's my 1990's term, you pick your own); but we all know that's not true. But the sheer fact that things like 'Homecoming' exist and continue to exist underscores their importance to us. Like John Mayer, we want to scream at the top of our lungs, "I just found out there is no such thing as the real world!", or some such nonsense which speaks to our current mental/emotional state; to all of those who knew us with buck teeth and a bowl cut; to prove that we were more than our headgear and christmas tree sweater-- to prove that we MATTER.
And we all DO matter, but why is it so important for us to 'prove' it in our own minds and hearts? Why is it so vexing to the human spirit to be welcomed back from whence we came? I think we find them important because there is a greater homecoming which we yearn for, deep in our soul. Like a bird calling for it's unseen mother; you know she's out there with the worm, and you will call with aching lungs until she comes. We've been somewhere in our hearts, in our souls and we wish to return. The questions are, how? and when? and where? They are the questions everyone asks at one time or another, just posed different ways.
The answers are elusive and yet easily declared. We, like with our alma maters, want to deny that it is important to us. We want to deny that the people of our past had and have any effect on us. We want to look for our own answers rather than take those that stand right before us....
So then the bigger question becomes: What do we consider our 'home'? The answer means more to you than I'm sure you're willing to admit.
'Home' is a tricky word, one which we all define differently. For some it is a state, others a state of mind. For still others it is a person or people. Yet others still it is a season or a geographical region. My favorite teacher, who I met long before going to Minnehaha Academy, was homeless. He wasn't from anywhere. He was by most accounts a bastard child living in the streets or which ever friends house would have him that night. When I met him I was just a child, and the way he lived was so foreign to me. The older I get, the more I start to understand it. The older I get, the more I feel a desire to live that way... and then the curiosity hits me if there are others, people from my past, friends lost upon the diverging roads who also see life this way... who maybe want to take up the road again together and see if we can't bind some of that youth to the future.
So it is I return, to find old friends and acquaintances and seek out our past, our COLLECTIVE past, with grand pomp and great import; playing Duran Duran, rehashing plots of 90210 and reliving the time we cut class to go to Taco Bell. And all the while we continue to look, with keen eyes, for the solution to our heart's puzzle... waiting to crash through the halls and scream it out: "I've found it... I've found...!" And we want those who knew us 'when'-- before our 401k, our school debt, our broken down Volkswagon, and our career misadventures-- to be the first to hear it. For when you find what it is that is TRULY your home, you never want to leave it, and you want to tell those who matter most.
So, if you were my classmate, whatever you find to be the reason for your desire to return to Guido Kauls Field in Minneapolis tomorrow; I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with who wins the soccer game. (though, if they don't win, I'm positive my husband will be rather upset...)
Go Redhawks!
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