As often as not
Carson McCullers’ childhood home in Columbus, Georgia, as seen in 2009
“We are torn between nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known.”
― Carson McCullers
The older I get, the harder travel seems to become. I don’t know if that’s due to changes in the industry itself– when did air travel become so stressful?– or because I’m more easily tired and discouraged now that I’m older, often without another adult to help when the going gets tough.
Yet I still long to travel, and dream of going back to places I loved on first visit, and also to places I’ve never been. I wouldn’t describe this feeling as homesickness, but maybe McCullers is right. After all, isn’t homesickness often a longing for something that may not still be there when we return? And isn’t nostalgia a hazy, rose-colored view of the past that filters out the very real struggles we endured during a now idealized period of our lives?
When I travel, I’m typically so caught up in the sights and sounds that surround me that I don’t consciously experience homesickness, other than missing loved ones who aren’t with me. Yet returning home to what is familiar is always a balm to a weary body and an overstimulated soul. For a brief time, the longing for what McCullers refers to as “the foreign and strange” will subside. But eventually, I know the wanderlust will return and I’ll start planning future trips again, dreaming of faraway places or nearby towns I’ve yet to see.
Some people seem to be content with returning to the same place year after year, where they spend their vacation in a place that is comfortably familiar yet different from everyday life. I can sympathize with this preference too, because it’s how I feel about going back to our York home. For over nine years now, it has been only a part-time home. I was recently surprised to realize that’s three years longer than it was our full time home.
Nostalgia is unquestionably part of the appeal of going back so frequently. But I doubt I will ever feel nostalgia for the times I’ve spent there since Jeff died. Still, I find it hard to think of parting with the home. When I do, I imagine it will be partly because the longing to travel to places I’ve never seen will outweigh the pull of returning to the familiar.
What about you? Do you every feel homesick for places you’ve never been? Or are you happier to return to what is familiar and well loved? And has this changed as you grow older?
This post was first published seven years ago today. The blog is not designed for viewing on cell phones, but you can get a less distorted version of the photos if you click on the “view on blog” link at the top right of the screen. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, at the individual post views. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
Hi Julia,
When describing homesickness as longing for something that (may not) won’t be there when you return, you probably hit the mark for many. I also believe that nostalgia tends to be a filtered reflection. Why is that? (And why did I not think of this seven years ago?)
My answer begins with Thomas Wolfe, and his posthumously published work in 1940, “You Can’t Go Home Again”. I admit I haven’t read the entire tome. Maybe that’s in part because some consider him genius, while some critics assess him as superfluous. In any case, Wolfe is probably my home state’s (NC) most famous writer.
In this story, his character comes to the realization that you cannot return to the past, your childhood, or familiar places because time moves on and everything changes. Growing up the character’s experiences are etched in his mind and seem everlasting. In reality, they are mere moments that will never be relived. Thus, he equates “time” and “memory” to mental escapes from reality. In other words, the filters of nostalgia.
I agree with you, that my feelings of homesickness really are just missing loved ones. And I wouldn’t say that I am “torn” between nostalgia and an urge for new adventure (foreign and strange). Sometimes it’s simply joyful to reflect on past memories, but I find as much satisfaction in making new memories, especially when accompanied by friends and/or loved ones.
Here’s to new adventures! 😊
Hi Chris! I haven’t read Wolfe’s You Can’t Go Home Again either, though my Oxford classmate has advised me often to read it. She’s a Greek poet who lives in the Netherlands, and she has become one of my closest friends, as we still meet weekly via Teams video calls to work on poems (and life) together. I did grow up with an awareness of that book, because my beloved Daddy would always quote that title to me when I would be reflecting with a wistful desire to go back to something or other. “You can’t go home again,” he would say, and I always knew what he meant. On the other hand, here’s a quote from a book I’m reading now: “The past beats inside me like a second heart.” (― John Banville, The Sea) And another I’ve always loved: “A happy childhood can’t be cured. Mine’ll hang around my neck like a rainbow…” (— Hortense Calisher) That might sound familiar if you’ve been reading this blog awhile. Here’s to new adventures indeed! Even when age leaves us increasingly less inclined (or less able) to venture abroad for them…
Good morning, Julia!
You make me think.
When I hear the word “homesick,” My first association is with harming about kids at summer camp with me that for some reason were unhappy and wanted to go home. I don’t remember feeling that way, and when I read “a longing for something that may not still be there when we return,” it gave me more to ponder. I always expected things to be the same when I got home. Didn’t they? Or maybe I missed the obvious possibility that things could change.
After my first few weeks in collage when I went home, I remember my parents announcing that they were going to Maine to look for a house.
I said, “but we already have a house.”
“Oh!” said Mom, “Dad got a job in Maine – didn’t anyone tell you, dear?”
Those kids at summer camp knew something I didn’t, it seems.
But perhaps more to your point, have you ever felt homesick for heaven? Presumably a place we’ve never been before, but our “home.”
Sometimes here in Minnesota, I sure do miss New Hampshire. In a way, that feels more like home to me. I guess I claimed it as my home, when I joined First Church in Nashua.
Is “harming” (in your first line) a typo? If so, I can go in and correct it.
Homesick for heaven? Yes, that’s a real thing, and C. S. Lewis wrote about it often. Here’s a quote from one of my favorite of his works: “At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendours we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumour that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in.” (― C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory, an address first delivered at Oxford. Have you read it? If not, I solemnly charge you to do so!)
It’s probably no coincidence that the town of your church home feels more like home to you. I’ve always thought of Dorothy’s words at the end of one of my favorite movies, “The Wizard of Oz.” Speaking of Oz, she says “I remember some of it wasn’t very nice. But most of it was beautiful! But just the same, all I kept saying to everybody was ‘I want to go home.'” For as long as I can remember, I’ve thought that must be how we’ll feel when we get to heaven.
Homesick for heaven? I immediately thought of Phil Wickham. He released a great song by that title last year! I’m a big fan; hope you both enjoy this song. 😊
https://PhilWickham.lnk.to/hsfh
Thanks Chris! I’ll try to listen to it soon, when I have time to appreciate it. 😀
Chris, Thank you so much for introducing me to this song and this artist! I hope to listen to more of him! I need such messages more and more as I grow older and the losses pile up.
Oops, yes that must have been a smartphone auto-incorrect. I think the thing i was trying to say was “hearing.” I’ve heard and read about homesick kids, and I could sympathize but not empathize.
Yes, I have read The Weight of Glory, but possibly half my lifetime ago. I have a copy, and should probably dust it off and read it again.
Susan, I’ve read it several times. It’s well worth re-reading.