A Place to Belong To

Home is Within, Home is Outside

Boone, North Carolina

Home is within, home is outside. Home is an aroma, something you take in and let course through your body.

The familial element of home is pervasive. On a warm August afternoon in Anderson, South Carolina I walked up the path the Bill West's house, an imposing Greek Revival mansion, one of the many Civil War domestic monuments throughout the South. I was a little intimidated coming to this huge house. What lay within?

Bill West greeted me as if I were a long-time friend. As I looked around the foyer of this huge house, I saw that while the outside testified to the Southern presence of the Civil War, the interior was a testimony to the wonders of the West family, with photographs neatly mounted on the walls and the small tables.

"Let's go in here. It is a comfortable place to visit. " Mr. West's voice was friendly and soft. I followed Mr. West into a glassed-in porch, furnished with chairs and sofas. We settled in for conversation, and Mr. West spoke lovingly about the importance of family in his life, and how family history created a sense of home for him.

Soon into the conversation Mrs. West came to the threshold of the porch to "check me out." She told me that she wondered who this strange woman was and what she wanted with her husband. Mr. West asked her to stay and talk about her concept of home. It mirrored Mr. West's. Family was key, family history was a guide to pride of home, as was the house, which belonged to her family.

Mrs. West then decided that I should meet the rest of the family. She left the room and made phone calls to her daughter and son-in-law. They came over, as did an 85 year old aunt. I listened as they began to tell each other about family events that shaped their home. Reunions, parties, and marriages. All were easy and home-full topics, punctuated with laughter.

I felt like the West family was performing for me, telling stories about their family and home, and enjoying every minute of their demonstration. When I left, I was momentarily accepted by the family with hugs and thanks for a family opportunity. As I walked down the path of the imposing house, it actually felt smaller, homier.

Family connection is also essential to Willard and Linda Smith in Blountstown, Florida, located in the Florida Panhandle. Home is a part of a working relationship between family members and God. Linda told me, "Well, it [home] has a real warm feeling to me, it has the idea of home is family and togetherness and doing work and play and worship together." Willard picked up on the theme: "Sharing and caring and looking out for each other. And in order to do all that, you've got to have a lot of give and taking."

Patsy Chandler Patsy Chandler of Blakely, Georgia, grew up in a traveling family. Her father designed paper mills and the family moved throughout the South so he could supervise the execution of his designs. Patsy met her husband Paul and at the age of 17 Patsy and Paul married. They have two sons and a daughter. The Chandlers had a happy marriage [Paul is deceased]. Initially, Paul farmed, but he decided to become a Georgia State Trooper. He later joined the Georgia Bureau of Investigation

Given the high level of risk in Paul's work, home was a special part of family life. To Mrs. Chandler, "Home is not a house. Home is in the heart. And so that is something I've always believed. That you can live in a motel or a shack, but you're home when you're home with your family. And when you're home in your heart. "

The Chandlers had an extended family, Paul's colleagues on the Force. If the men were scheduled to work on Thanksgiving day, Mrs. Chandler, recognized in the community for her cooking, would make a Thanksgiving feast for the Saturday after. And if the guests were to be on duty, they would come to the house and put their gun belts in the guest room and take in a memorable repast -- until it was time to go back to work.

Helen Young That family connection. Helen Young was born in Worth County, Georgia in 1944. With segregation, opportunities for African Americans to own land were rare. So when government initiated a plan that would allow African American ownership of land, Helen's family moved to neighboring Doughtery County and bought land on what was known as "Nim's Place." Other African Americans went in on land, but most of them continued sharecropping. Helen's family was the only one that owned land outright. This is the land Helen lives on today and where she is building a large house.

Helen gave me directions and I followed the road to her house. Helen caught up with me: she was feeding the pigs and ducks. She pointed across the open road to a house, framed and ready for finishing. "That's my house." I met her over there for a cook's tour.

Each room was framed, but there were no finished walls. In one room, a semicircle of wooden rocking chairs invited us to sit. We talked and rocked, while my dog Phoebe explored the premises within and out.

"So when I say the word "home," what comes to mind. Really trying to maintain your sanity, You have to stay really conscious about staying within yourself, given all the bombardment of stuff that you are constantly bombarded with: sickness of friends, death of loved ones, watching people do senseless things. So you really have to find what grounds you."

One way Helen makes home is by going to flea markets to find items from her childhood home, from spoons to plows. "It's like I said, I was born here and raised here and worked here, and I'm happy to be making full circle to come back home."

And when the house is done it will be Helen's home, and it will be her family's community center. It will be the place to celebrate graduations, have family reunions, and to grieve the loss of loved ones. The house is big; but home is bigger.

Home-making is a sacred activity, often realized after the fact. Feeling at home is like an evaluation: "Yes, I feel at home, thank you." The feeling of home is always expressed in connection with someone or something, hopefully in the positive.

H.J. Jackson Home-making is personal. At age 87, H.J. Jackson of Ozark, Alabama thinks of his mother when he hears the word "home." I met Mr. Jackson at the suggestion of Alabama folklorist Joey Brackner. Originally I wanted to talk with Mr. Jackson about his concept of home as it relates to his singing of sacred songs. It didn't turn out that way, and instead I listened to Mr. Jackson reminisce:

"Normally I think about Mama when you say "home." Now my mother she was a lady that helped me a lot. And she would always put … when I was a little boy she would put me in bed and when it was cold weather she would cover me with quilt .. she made quilts and she put those heavy quilts on me. By me being a child she come, I don't know 12 o'clock or 1 o'clock at night she'd come back and see whether I was still under the cover. She never would say nothing, she'd come back and if I'd pushed it off, she'd put it back on me.

"Well, I'll tell you another thing comes to mind is she prepared meals for us. The food now don't even taste like it did when she did. She cooked collard greens and baked sweet potatoes. And she had a cow, more than one. … And buttermilk. I never did drink no sweet milk. But she mostly let that milk turn … she churned that milk and get the butter."

As Mr. Jackson's mother created a home feeling for her son, Kazuko Law's grandmother blessed her with a feeling of home through creative expression and individual attention.

Kazuko Law Kazuko Law grew up in the north of Japan. Home was a special time, spent with her grandmother. "My most happiest memory in home I have is after dinner. My parents give us 45 minutes with [our grandparents]. My granddad used to talk with the boys. Showed how to use a hammer or chisel. … or something about fishing. Me, I was the only girl. … And she [grandmother] says, "We are going to do origami. … Something different every day.

Quality time with loved ones - this is what Mrs. Law is talking about. That chunk of time was so important, it is an outstanding feature of Mrs. Law's concept of home. She is a grandmother herself, and she would love to give her grandchildren the kind of attention she ritually received from her grandmother. But this is America, and things are somehow different. The children have a different sense of home and of time. Mrs. Law would love to have that special time again, to give gifts as her grandmother did.

Home-making is a powerful, sacred act. Talking about home is passionate where sights, sounds, smells and memories are knit together to create a secure, impenetrable cover.

Sheila Thomas Shelia Thomas was born and raised in Texarkana, Texas. We worked together for an arts council, where Shelia's dedication and sense of humor contributed to the workplace morale. Shelia has a strong sense of family, community, and God, all of which goes to her home-making. She made a tape for me about home-making, soon after she was involved in a car accident. This is her story:

"I thought about several homes. I thought about the eternal home, and I'm not afraid of dying, and I read about the eternal home and I know in the heart that it is a wonderful place. I thought about home where I grew up at, where I was born and grew up. And I was only 50 yards from home, that home when the accidents occurred. I thought about home where my husband and my child was. I thought about home church, I thought about all kinds of homes.

"Home is the place that there is just overflowing love. It's a place where when you enter, it's it brings a smile to your face. Home is filled with a lot of things. The smell of cornbread, the smell of a certain perfume or cologne. Home is filled with a lot of laughter. Home has some pain, but home is mainly full of the good times. Home is sitting by the Christmas tree every year and telling stories about previous Christmases. Home is raking the leaves off the front lawn and bagging them up and putting them on the curb. Home is striking up the barbecue grill and putting up a few hot dogs on it. Home is a rocking chair, sitting in the living room. Home is people giving hugs and kisses and you can feel the meaning in the hug and the kiss and it's not a hug where I hug you now and in ten minutes I'm just talking about you bad.

As Sheila's feeling of home is filled with memories, smells, and family, love is the capstone. No matter what happens to the physical structure, if there is love, home will survive. Without love there is no home, and the person is empty inside. For Shelia, there will always be home. She trusts love that much. Many of the people I spoke with grew up in the towns they live in today. They choose to do so because they say they would feel empty otherwise. But many of us do move from where we grew up and we create new homes. Memories of the old home, like those of Kazuko Law are strong and important, but the new home is equally valid, shaped in part by the old home.

Peggy Johnson grew up in Macon, Georgia. Her memories of home are vivid and physical. "… I lived there [in Macon] for the first 17 years of my life. I knew all the places where the wood floors squeaked. All the furniture was a special treasure. … Home was a city with my mother in it. … She was home.

"Many years later, Georgia is "home" and Macon is "where I grew up."

Peggy moved to Oklahoma City. "Once again home is my house or apartment or wherever I live. Shelter from the storm. Food. Warm pets, an occasional friend or lover. I enjoy the neighborhood idea of home … and always try to get to know my neighbors. … Home to me is a private place where I have control over my comings and goings.

"I do carry home around in my heart. … That is a big part of home - being at peace with myself on some level so that I can take myself anywhere. I like that."

Consistency is key to Peggy's concept of home. Being at peace is vital, and Peggy will do whatever she can to her physical and emotional home to maintain a consistent peace. Often times this involves creating a physical space that will at once hold her peace and let it grow.

Pat Reaves grew up in Arkansas, and moved to Oklahoma to go to college. Rather than craft the feeling of home out of the physical environment, community is central to Pat's home.

Growing up, family was home for Pat. That was her community. In college, her friends at school were her home, her community. Then she developed friendships in Oklahoma City. After college, "I got a job in Little Rock, moved back there, and spent my time commuting between here [Oklahoma City] and Little Rock because I had this notion that I could go back there. And what I figured out pretty quickly was that even though there were people there I wanted to work with, this was where I wanted to be because this was the community I had a sense of belonging to. [Home] is a place you choose to belong to.

"It's a place you belong to." I love that phrase, it rings true for me as well. My own situation is familiar to Pat's because I liked working with people in one place, but I felt more of a sense of belonging to the community in Oklahoma City. Home is not only matter of biological family and birthplace. It is a gut feeling. That's what this is about, that gut feeling where you fit in your skin and move with ease. Home is not a restricted state of being. It is what one makes of it.

"It's a place you belong to." I could use that line over and over. Belonging to a community can mean many things. One can come into a community, settle down, and lead a peaceful existence without leaving the house. One can come into a community and attach to a social cause, from animal rights to music. What happens when one's sense of belonging is completely rooted in community service? One makes home too.

Joan and Tom Stadsklev

It's as Joan Stadsklev said of her involvement: "It's part of who I am." As a child growing up in Panama City, Florida, Joan was "involved a lot. Brownies and Girl Scouts … very active in my church and my youth group and youth choirs, and we were always doing community projects. I was a child musician, so I was always being called on to play for the civic club or sing for this or that. So, I was always out in the community."

Joan's husband, Tom, sees the church as …"a kind of basic bedrock for us in the community we were involved in. I was very active in 4H Club and worked with a lot of kids within this county area…"

The Stadsklevs bring their sense of community service to home as hosts to Rotary Club exchange students who visit from overseas. Through the years the Stadsklevs have been recognized for their community service with numerous awards, of which they are proud. They are home-makers.

Remica Gray was born and raised in Texarkana, Arkansas. She says, "I cannot remember a time in my life when my family members were not involved in activities centered around … churches or community projects."

"A natural outgrowth from those [family] examples, teaching and my religious beliefs has been community service. We are all responsible for each other and our surroundings. Through our work with and for one another, we all become members of a larger family with more resources for giving those supportive services necessary for the development of an individual, town, city, nation, world. ... Community service to me is not an obligation, but a privilege."

Community service is a community construction project in which everyone has a job. This job, however is where love of home is in the labor. As Joan Stadsklev said, it is a part of her. For Joan, Remica, and others, community service is in the blood of home. Take community service away, and home would exist, but it would exist without a certain spice. That spice is the contribution a person makes to home.

Home making is an activity that assists in the crafting of a sense and passion for belonging. It can be done through action, such as community service, and it can be expressed using a glossary of terms such as those I previously listed. As I have been describing it overall, home is a presence of emotion and action that serves as an anchor in a world that sometimes seems very crazy. Without the sense of home, without the emotional connection, we might feel lost, somehow at odds with ourselves. Home is a feeling we want and perhaps need. It fills the air we breathe, it supports what we care about that is truthful.

Witold Rybczynski has written beautifully about the material development of home, in Home: A Short History of an Idea (1996. New York: Penguin).
Whereas he writes of the environmental creation of home, I am considering home in light of people's oral expressions of where they live. In this area I listened to how people spoke and gestured. See Dell Hymes, Foundations in Sociolinguistics (1974. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press) and Erving Goffman, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (1959. New York: Anchor) and Frame Analysis (1974. New York: Harper)