Places, Longings, DNA and the Primordial Urge for Clean Clothes

This photo is from Fisher Park, a place where I spent a lot of time as a kid. I don't know who took the photo, I found it on line. Lots of memories there - sledding, burying treasure, dating.

I think about places a lot. Why do people live where they live? Why do they move or not move? It's part of my obsession with figuring people out.

I think it's also my obsession with figuring myself out. I grew up in North Carolina, but never felt at home there. I never quite fit in. I moved to Florida, the same. Then I moved to Georgia and I have felt more at home here than anywhere else. Probably because I've lived here longer than anywhere else. But also, I think, because both of my parents were from here. It's funny, while I never came here to visit as a child and didn't move here for family reasons, I have found myself right in the middle of where my people are from. It's like I gravitated here.

When I moved here I understood the people immediately. I understood how they talked, their sense of humor, I just naturally knew how to move and maneuver in this place. (I mean in a social, emotional way) But still - I don't fit in because I'm not from here.

I've always wondered how if feels to really belong somewhere. To have legitimate claim on a place. My family has done genealogical research and found that I'm from Scotland (my grandfather Hay) and Ireland (my grandfather Kennedy) both on my mother's side. My father's family is from Holland (van Horn) and the Alexanders have only been researched back to Virginia, not out of the states. Then there was an event or events concerning some slaves which throws some African blood into my veins. I know because there has been a book written about it with my family mentioned in it. (I have a friend who's from Nigeria and she teaches African dance. I was dancing with her one day and she said, in her beautiful accent, "I know you have Africa in your blood!" I didn't tell her, she could just tell. I'm sure it was my love of the drums and not my dancing ability, haha!)

I've never been to Ireland, Holland, Scotland or Africa but when I read about those places or see photos, I feel something. More so than Russia or China or any other place. Maybe it's my imagination or wishful thinking.

This idea is so on my mind that I included it in a novel that I wrote for Katie while she was in college last year. Here's an excerpt:

“I don’t know.” She walked over to the tree limb and picked off a leaf. She looked at the castle as she spoke. “All my life, Ireland has called to me. Every picture I saw, everything I read. Even music or Irish writers I would read, there was some familiar strain or thread, something I understood in my soul. I’ve been dreaming of this trip for – well – forever. And I just knew that when I got here, Ireland, that I would feel something. I thought it might feel like coming home, being connected, it’s hard to describe. I just knew that it would feel like the land itself was happy to see me.”

In the same story, I wrote another similar scene:

He first had to focus and strain to begin, but then he fell into what Jess knew was a song that he knew from his heart. Jess leaned back as he sang what must have been an old Irish melody. His voice was rough, but he stayed on tune. And Jess thought that the ruggedness just added genuineness to the song. The words flowed from him without effort. He was connected to this place. It was like the heart and soul of Ireland rose from the ground and came up and out of Aiden’s mouth. This was the moment that Jess was waiting for. She wanted to experience Ireland and this was it. It was at that very moment that Jess heard Ireland call to her soul and welcome her home. She closed her eyes and imagined the scene that she drank in that afternoon right outside the house. The warmth of the earth, the scent of the moss, the green that sank into every pore. She opened her eyes and watched the man that was singing a tune that struck a chord of harmony within her, a haunting melody that she was remembering from ancient days.

As I reread what I just wrote above, it sounds awfully dramatic. You'd have to read it in the context of the story to see how she got to this point. But I would like to believe that people have a connection to a place, not just because of likes and dislikes, preferences or years spent.

I want to get my DNA tested to find out where I came from. There are tests that can be done that links you to your haplogroup: http://www.dnaancestryproject.com/ydna_intro_ancestry.php
They give you pie charts telling you what percentage you are, let's say of European, African, Asian, etc. I would love that!

Well, enough of thinking of other places and times. The laundry room is calling to me, beckoning me to come- and I will go out of a primordial urge to wear clean clothes. So, I'm off - wish me well!