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17 February 2007

celebrate what stays

My grandma has lived on the same block for 81 and a half years. My dad's side of the family is old Burlington stock. So much so that three generations of my family have attended the same high school. Before that, my ancestors arrived in Canada with their fellow Irish emigrees and settled into the gritty, steel-working boroughs of Hamilton. My paternal lineage built new lives for themselves, and worked with their hearts and hands in order to seek security for their families. Enjoying the life they had found, and being tied to the jobs that provided sustenance, they planted their feet in the golden horseshoe and let their roots sink in. I love the sense of history and belonging that I associate with my grandparents' house. Even though it's over a hundred years old, and arguably impractical for my grandma to keep up, I do understand her when she explains,

"I know I should sell the house and move somewhere smaller, but my whole life I've believed that if you have something of value that's solid, that you can hold and feel, it's foolish to let it slip away."

But times change, and people grow old. Houses grow old too. Neighbourhoods age and demographics change. Young people leave for the city seeking employment and excitement, while the middle-aged return home to the suburbs for comfort and quiet. At least, that's been my experience.

But tonight I'm writing after spending the day touring Philadelphia, and the evening with a born-and-bred South-Philly family. Like my grandma, this family has lived on the same block for decades. The parents own a corner deli 4 doors down from their rowhouse, and play host to a selection of elderly immigrants, benign crackheads and booze-happy kids. They are red-cheeked and jovial as they talk about everyday hilarity, and point out who lives in each place as we pass.

"Oh yeah, no one ever leaves South Philly. Even if they go away for a while, you know they'll be back real soon."

I imagine it would be nice to have a place with history, a place that is so consistent that you have trouble straying from the lived-in, narrow streets.

I love living in the city. I love wondering who everyone is as they pass, and making up stories about strangers in my head when I sit in coffeeshops. Half of me dreams of life in a village, or a tight-knit urban 'hood. I'm looking for a Cheers-esque environment of some kind, I guess. Maybe the timing is off, though?

It made me so happy to see my friend get married last week. She's always been one of the most independent, decisive people I know, and once she met her new husband, she didn't blink before deciding she was completely set on him. Yes, the permanancy of marriage is clearly scary, but for her it seems exactly right.

I myself am a drifter, but I admire people and places with staying power. When so much is shifting, breaking, drifting, I like to look at those thing that seem to last.

3 comments:

Chris in NF said...

As you might imagine, there's a lot of that here in Newfoundland -- families that have lived in the various outports, many with populations of only a few hundred, for generations. It's kind of sad that we've seen so much out-migration, esp. to Ontario and Alberta, in the last fifty years or so. So much in fact that people can speak seriously about the "Newfoundland diaspora." In spite of the more recent economic upswing, it's still happening, and those who aren't leaving for the oil sands are moving to urban centers like St. John's and Corner Brook. It's sad to think of those colourful outports turning into the equivalent of tourist traps or retirement communities ...

Chris in NF said...

As you might imagine, there's a lot of that here in Newfoundland -- families that have lived in the various outports, many with populations of only a few hundred, for generations. It's kind of sad that we've seen so much out-migration, esp. to Ontario and Alberta, in the last fifty years or so. So much in fact that people can speak seriously about the "Newfoundland diaspora." In spite of the more recent economic upswing, it's still happening, and those who aren't leaving for the oil sands are moving to urban centers like St. John's and Corner Brook. It's sad to think of those colourful outports turning into the equivalent of tourist traps or retirement communities ...

Chris in NF said...

Sorry ... not sure how that happened.