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| The house in which I grew up, in Newton County, Arkansas September, 1964 |
It’s an experience millions of Americans seek out each year, said Jerry Burger, a retired Santa Clara University psychology professor. Burger spent more than a decade researching people who visit their childhood homes for a book titled “Returning Home: Reconnecting With Our Childhoods.”
He found that one-third of Americans older than 30 have returned to their childhood homes. His own interest in the subject stemmed from his nagging desire, as he neared his 40s, to revisit the places that served as a backdrop to his childhood.
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| Exterior of my childhood home 1975 |
Burger says people feel particularly strong emotions about the place they lived between the ages of 5 and 12. “It seems to be those are key years,” he said. “For many people their identity is tied up with that place, with that time.” (emphasis mine)
I know this is true for me. ...
We [Gutierrez and her family] set out in April, our rental car bumping along the dirt road, a dust cloud following closely behind us as we headed toward Raymond Drive. When people used to ask where I lived, I would tell them, “Along the back road to Las Vegas.” Now, I regularly see stories glamorizing Wonder Valley and the eclectic lifestyle offered here.
We passed the myriad homesteads that are now rentals, boasting amenities such as outside baths called cowboy tubs, a rock climbing wall or yoga rooms. I talked about the impact it was having on locals who were being priced out of the desert, and added “gentrification” to my son’s vocabulary.
“There was nothing like that when I was here,” I told him.
I appreciated Gutierrez's reminiscences, not least because they reminded me of my own.
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| Kitchen interior of my childhood home at a 1974 Birthday party The cabinets and washer/dryer were new just a few years earlier |
I lived in the same house from the time I was three weeks old until I went to college--and I returned most summers to live and work there until I was well into my twenties. I have definitely experienced this curiosity about where one comes from and a desire to track periodically how it has changed and is changing. Indeed, I've sometimes perused family photo albums to see how my family home looked at different times during my childhood and youth, tracking the little improvements we made. These included a wood-burning furnace in the basement to replace the wood-burning stove in the living room in the late 1960s; more kitchen cabinets over and straddling our first washer and dryer in the early 1970s; and a carport in 1979.
1 comment:
This is such an interesting blog and one I relate to so much. I literally always think about the apartment I grew up in, but I thought it was just me! I lived in the same apartment from when I was a baby until the middle of middle school. It is the only address I have completely memorized with no hesitation. Almost every time I go back to Merced I have to drive by, and it always pulls out a bunch of different emotions every single time.
I learned how to swim and how to ride a bike there. I developed my first crush there. I spent hours and hours reading books on a blanket outside my front door. I made my first best friend, Sierrah, there. I have so many memories there, good and bad, and I always represent Loughborough Avenue, Lincoln Meadows apartments.
The complex is a lot different than it used to be. It now has a gate, is painted a really ugly shade of dark blue, and, worst of all, the rent has since tripled in price. But I still feel a very strong attachment to that neighborhood and all the friends I made living there, who still feel like family.
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