Home

In absence of actual travel, here’s some ramblings on the concept of “home” that I started back in Colorado.

The question that used to throw me when meeting strangers is “What do you do?” They are usually just making curious small talk, and I would try to reply simply that I am retired. But often they push: “Well, what did you do before you retired?” Ugh. I hate talking about myself in general. But having retired early from a job I no longer enjoyed, then becoming a SAHM while supporting my spouse’s career as we traveled internationally, I always stammered and fumbled about, trying to explain myself, or somehow trying not feel judged. It never worked. Now that I’m closer to normal retirement age, I don’t get tripped up as much on that topic anymore. Now, instead the question I struggle to answer as we travel about is: “Where is home?”

The concept of home is a curious one. For some people, it is where they were born, where they grew up, or where they currently live. But for us, now well into year two of a nomading experiment, it’s a complicated question. I study Larry, who is way better at small talk with strangers than I will ever be. Depending on the situation or conversation he will answer “We made our professional lives in Boston, but now have a small place near Kim’s parents in Florida.” Then, as the conversation ebbs and flows, he will shade in with details that can relate with the person, be it Tennessee, Germany, or some other spot on the globe. I’m not as graceful. Over this past year I have bounced around with answers: Boston, Florida, New England, east coast; sometimes I just point at our van.

Many people would say home is where family is. To that end we are home most of the year. We love traveling and exploring, but we equally love staying put with family for a couple months. We spend winter months in Florida and summer months in New Hampshire with my folks. The kids come home in the summer and at Christmas when their schedule allows. We travel to visit family often in the course of our nomading. Thanks to technology, we keep close connections with all of our family and friends regardless of where our travels take us. We liberally use group chats, facetime videos, what’s app voice messages, and of course the social media channels that I employ to share our adventures. In these ways we maintain relationships regardless of time or distance.

Someone once asked where I feel at home. And as much as it pains my little Boston heart to say it, I feel most at home in New York City. But nine times out of ten, when pressed I will state that Boston is my home. We still have a one bedroom condo worth of stuff in storage in the greater Boston area with vague notions that we will eventually return. But it’s been a few years, and we aren’t making any plans in that direction yet. Instead, we’ve been making our home all over the continental US. In fact, we’ve become quite adept at making ourselves at home in other people’s homes. We’ve been stringing together an itinerary that combines van camping, airBnBs, and house and pet sitting gigs.

That’s right. We are official pet sitters. When learning this little tidbit about us, I’ve had quite a few folks express surprise and strong reservations, saying that they could never stay in someone else’s home or have strangers stay in theirs. These same folks have a lot of questions about the whole thing. To answer one that I have fielded directly or indirectly a couple times, we are very respectful of peoples’ homes and boundaries. And with the exception of books and art, we really have no curiosity about our hosts’ homes at all. We will get intimate with their kitchen out of necessity, but we do not go through closets or drawers. We don’t rifle through medicine cabinets. We don’t rearrange things and we don’t poke around. I’m not sure if it’s out of respect or deference or simply the Golden Rule. We follow instructions, love the pets, care for the home, and tend the gardens. I understand that it’s not for everyone, but it’s worked for us. And yes, we could pay to lodge somewhere, but we’ve really enjoyed the chance to stay in real homes and care for pets and plants. It certainly adds elements of entertainment and connections to our travels, regardless of our length of stays. During last year’s travels we stayed in one place for one or two months at a time; this year it’s been a lot shorter. Both models have us temporarily moving into strangers’ homes, be it a short term rental with zero personality or someone’s home for 30 years filled to the brim with their lives and memorabilia. In both cases, we unload the van with our personal belongings, and we make space in their homes for us to live for the agreed upon duration. Then, when it’s time to go, we remove every trace and leave the home as we found it.

As for those personal belongings that we lug in and out, we are always iterating. When you are traveling constantly and trying to live your life while doing so (after all these aren’t vacations or get-aways; it’s a whole different category) there are certain things you simply want with you, but space is very limited in the van. While I may treat it like a never ending room of requirement, Larry knows every inch and pound. It is precisely packed for both van living and for home invasions. When we arrive at a home, we bring in the usual personal toiletries, electronics, and clothes that we each have. Some homes and rentals are well stocked. Others, not so much. So we travel with a bin for kitchen items we feel are essential (knives, knife sharpener, certain seasonings and spices, oil, vinegar, mesh strainer, baking sheets). We feel it’s better to have the items we want. If we don’t need them, they can simply stay in the van. There’s also a bin of general office supplies and materials (stationery, stamps, checkbook, folders, paper clips, cards, extension cords, and soft white light bulbs). And lastly we have a bin that contains medications, first aid items, and general shared toiletries. We have a hiking backpack that is equipped for our outdoor adventures. I have a swim backpack with my pool gear. We both have gym bags with workout clothes, water bottles, toiletries, locks. We have Larry’s guitar, and his traveling office (desk and monitor). We travel with a laundry bag, a folding drying rack, and two traveling clotheslines. (Small aside: Last year, we jettisoned a folding laundry basket because every home we were in had a receptacle for dirty laundry. This year, infuriatingly, all but two places did not provide laundry baskets. Lesson learned.)

As I started pulling on this little thread of what is home, I decided to sift through photos to see if I could find images of home. There was a lot to work with. I was born and raised in the North Shore of Massachusetts (Beverly, Lynn, Saugus). I’ve probably spent portions of about 50 summers on the Ossipee River in New Hampshire. In the course of my life I moved a lot. I moved to Ramstein, Germany. Moved to Vacaville, California. Moved to the Merrimack Valley of Massachusetts (Methuen). Moved back to the North Shore (Lynn, Salem). Moved to Leesburg, Virginia. Moved back to the North Shore. Moved to Munich, Germany. Moved back to Massachusetts (Brookline). Moved to Sebastian, Florida. Then I got a van and I just kept moving. Granted most photos that I can access digitally only go back roughly to 2000 (with a few scanned exceptions). This little rabbit hole was about a day’s worth of work and nostalgia. Some common themes emerged as I selected photos: holidays, food, family, friends. Each of these places is deserving of its own essay in due course, but I feel it’s probably time to wrap this one up for now. Where ever you are in the world, I hope you always feel at home.

Saugus, MA