It was my first visit back home in over a year. I?d been in
Minnesota for college, and returned home just long enough to
marry and move to North Carolina.
I returned with a year old baby, the wife of a medical student,
struggling to put food on the table, though at that time in life
materials things don?t matter much.
This town I returned to, I had hated. Why? Because we had moved
every 3 years, and it had been fine until this time, but it was
3 weeks before high school, and what kid would want to start a
new high school of 4,000 not knowing a soul? My Dad infuriated
me by acting like he?d done me a favor, and I made it clear to
him he had ruined my life. We dug into our positions. ?Why did
you do this to me?? I bellowed. ?You ought to appreciate it,? he
said, and told me why, but I didn?t listen. ?You?ll appreciate
it some day,? he said, finding me beyond reason.
What did I hate? The size of the school, having to compete with
Ann-Margret (the movie star) if I wanted to sing in the musical,
their Chicago accents, and the crowning blow ? my advisor dubbed
me ?Sue? the first day and I never got rid of it. In fact my
favorite thing about going off to college was being able to
reclaim my name. If I hadn?t sunk into the victim position, I
might have been able to reclaim it sooner!
I hated the gray skies and the freezing winter wind, but I hated
spring worse. They released us at spring break to wander the
streets in wretched weather with dirty snow everywhere. My
family never got to go on a cruise like everyone else?s. But I
hated the summers worse because it was never hot enough to get a
tan. Not a happy camper, I gathered evidence to substantiate my
feelings.
Fast forward to my return to this horrible place. Winnetka is
one of the affluent suburbs on the North Shore of Chicago. A
planned community nestled on the shores of Lake Michigan, with
more Frank Lloyd Wright houses than anywhere else in the nation,
it is astoundingly beautiful, a place you dream of living.
With my blinders off and my attitude corrected, I saw it from my
Dad?s point of view. He worked hard to give us the best he
could, and how proud he must?ve been to move us there. In fact I
remember it in his walk as he showed me around the first week
there. ?It?s the best public high school in the nation,? he told
me, and the education I received got me into one of the best
liberal arts colleges in the nation.
The crime rate was so low we never locked our doors. Everything
was a short drive away, and there was always parking. There was
everything Chicago has to offer ? the art museum where I spent
many a Saturday, recently voted best in the nation. Parks within
walking distance which they froze in the winter for skating.
As I drove through the village, the sun slanted through the
trees on either side of the wide road that arched overhead. ?You
can?t tell me people don?t think about future generations,? my
Dad often said. ?Someone planted all those trees who never lived
to see them.?
?This is the most beautiful place on earth,? I mused to myself,
astounded at my earlier perceptions and attitude. Could this
really be that ?horrible place?? As a parent, I could only dream
of providing such for my own child some day. Most of all I was
stunned at what I had missed, in my retelling of this terrible
place. Once I had closed my mind, I hadn?t let any fact intrude.
I had had plenty of good times there ? how could you not ? but
in the retelling, you wouldn?t have known it.
I went over in my mind what I had then that I had no more ? I
had taken for granted and devalued a lake in the back yard with
boating as well as beauty, nationally acclaimed museums and
cultural events, convenience, service people who knew you by
name, the best public education possible at the time, nice
people, and safety.
I had the inklings of a lesson ? how your attitude effects your
perceptions and your thoughts affect your emotions. But it took
a few more rounds because moving is difficult. You wonder if
there will be friends, and all the unknowns.
My husband and I continued the family tradition of moving every
3 years. By the 2nd move it had finally sunk in that there?s
beauty everywhere, something to appreciate that you?ll miss like
hell when you leave and may never see again in your life, and
nice people everywhere. If they call you something you don?t
like, you ?just say no,? and you get used to the weird accents.
When we left Durham and moved to Cincinnati, I missed the cozy
town, the ocean, and the lovely parks, but I gained a cul-de-sac
that was like a kibbutz for my only child, great restaurants,
and the opportunities of a big city. It was the gloomy snow belt
again, but there wasn?t mold in the back of the closets. It?s
always a tradeoff.
Back we went to Durham, then on to San Antonio, Texas. When we
got to San Antonio, I missed the colorful four seasons, and
getting anywhere in 5 minutes, but rejoiced in the sunshine, the
plethora of restaurants, and the muliticultural influence. The
first tornado warning scared me, and the rattlesnakes, scorpions
and tarantulas were unnerving, but I remembered how I?d adjusted
to the mold on the back of closets in Durham and the slugs on
the back porch, no less unnerving. I was learning to cope with
change, and handle transitions.
I realized the things I?d missed, and so learned to approach the
next move with optimism, to seek and find and appreciate the
good in it, and to enjoy it every day. In fact I?d immediately
start a mental list of ?things I?m gonna miss a lot one day? to
stay focused on the positive, enhance my enjoyment, to bloom
where planted.
I should add that my mother complained the entire time she lived
in Winnetka, which is no doubt where I learned that attitude. I
was lucky to get the lesson in my face so young. Right now I?d
love to have had the life she had then, as far as the location
was concerned, but of course it wasn?t the place that pained
her, it was the pain inside her that made the place unbearable.
It was just easier to blame it on the place than to do the work
on the pain inside.
You see, moving doesn?t really solve anything if you?re
miserable, because you take you with you. It?s cleaning up the
place inside you that allows you to find the best wherever you
are and find the good wherever you are ? and that, of course, it
figurative as well as literal.
P.S. I appreciate it, Dad.
About the author:
?Susan Dunn, MA, The EQ Coach, http://www.susandunn.cc . Susan
is the author of ?Changing Beliefs, Self-Limiting Thoughts."
Coaching, Internet courses, ebooks, and EQ Alive! a coach
certification program, fast and affordable.
Mailto:sdunn@susandunn.cc for free EQ ezine. Dating on the
internet and need to check someone out? Think your spouse is
cheating? Go here: www.thecloser.cc .
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