Leaving Home at 18, Finding a Home at 78

When I was 18-years-old I left home.

It was not much of a home, not really.

Mom was a widow, cast in the tragic role of caring for seven children, working the night shift at Dilly Donuts in a modest idyllic midwestern town, and living off a baker’s take-home pay and a government check called Aid to Dependent Children.

When raising a family (including five boys ages 4–10) became too much and the pot spilled over, her “go to” was the same as her childhood-rearing captured in that cynical bumper sticker, “The Beatings Will Continue Until the Morale Improves.”

The rules were confounding. No was yes and yes was no. One sibling’s blunder triggered “punishment” for all. And there was no place to hide.

It was a time when generational values defined love as a roof over your head, three meals a day, and clothes for school — not anything to be under-appreciated. Home was more a place to land than that description of home by writer Charlie Smalls in the 1975 Broadway musical, The Wiz: “When I think of home, I think of a place where there’s love overflowing.”

So, I tossed an arms-load of belongings in the trunk of my car and left home with no destination in one of those end-of-the-line dramatic moments and I did not return until three years later when mom needed help as she was dying of cancer at the age of 48.

I know. Irony of ironies. But, even 20-something grown-ups set aside sad memories, do what’s required, and try to figure it all out later in life.

Our family of seven siblings survived those rather tumultuous time, each member with his or her own story, and at last it was time for me to once again leave home.

I found that career advancement in the newspaper business was accompanied by a willingness to take the next promotion — and move: Michigan, Texas, Carolina, Maryland, Virginia, New Jersey, Washington, D.C.…until the last 19 years when I worked for a great company and future moving up did not require moving on. Even then, I changed houses four times.

But, I was not alone. Americans tend to move a dozen times in their lifetime — not always out of state. And, remarkably, while people are not moving as much today as a few years ago, 28 million Americans moved in 2022.

Moving, in and of itself, is not what’s most important in understanding what it is like to create a home. It is a mistake to link a home with a house. Still, putting down roots makes it easier to create stability and rituals for members of a household; to settle in and breathe love and acceptance inside a home; and to connect with a community that offers involvement and reciprocity.

My latest move late in life was one of my best. I had swapped owning a house for renting an apartment. My first apartment was very utilitarian — suburban, good price, pool, fitness center, top floor, corner unit, EV charger. I just hated the view from my apartment — a Walmart.

So I moved downtown in a little big city, Providence, RI, with a view of a park, a river, art in public spaces, Amtrak five minutes away for get-aways to Boston, NYC, and Philly, a progressive church, vibrant young people attending universities, wonderful dining, bike trails, and a plethora of culture — orchestra, string ensembles, choruses, galleries, and libraries. I pay a little more. I swapped out some of my furniture in favor of a simpler look and lifestyle. All of this seemed to contribute to my search for “home”.

Felicia Murrell, author of “And, The Restorative Power of Love in an Either/Or World, writes:

“Home is both an external dwelling and an internal abode. Home is the place where we belong, our place of acceptance and welcome. There, in this shame and judgment-free embryonic cocoon of love, we practice unconditional acceptance; we learn to relate to ourselves and the world around us.

“And home is a soft place for the body to land, a safe place for the soul to fully disrobe. Home is the place where our failures don’t kill, our sins can’t crush, and even when we are at our worst, we’re safe. Home is a place where we are free to take our deepest, fullest, least encumbered breath.”

I am not going to suggest that during those busy, sometimes even crazy family-rearing days when you are balancing work and home that the values underscored by Murrell are always at work. But, neither do I think are they absent.

Then, you wake up one day and you are 78. Aging has slipped its nose under the tent, life circumstances have changed, and you recognize that one of the things that got away from you was the idea of HOME.

And you realize that to reclaim home it is helpful to find a place that fits who you are today — with a sort of “out with the old and in with the new”; trading complexity for simplicity and heirlooms for discoveries.

Most of all, you embrace the idea that while the bones may be weary the spirit is alive and ought to be open to the idea that home is a place where love is overflowing. And, if you missed it in your childhood, you can create it in your adulthood.