A Sense of Place

The house that I grew up in was sold by my folks back in the 80s. We were already out here in Cebu at the time, but I remember the news giving me a kind of strange feeling. And when we went back to Minnesota on furlough and I drove by the old homestead, I remember feeling a little bit unsettled. That place had been the only one where we had all lived together as a family (with the exception of a year when we lived in Phoenix while my dad took a sabbatical). That was our home. Who are those people walking in an out as if it is theirs? Every time I'm in St. Paul I drive by the house, sometimes even going down the alley to look at The Hoop, our dillapidated garage that (thankfully) "they" have not felt a need to fix up and the yard where we played countless hours of whiffle ball. I guess I have a pretty strong sense of place when it comes to my childhood. We painted that house. We did pullups on the water pipes in the basement. I can still remember the smell of our sun porch and the dusty fruit cellar in the basement.



I wonder sometimes if our CSC kids have any of that. The other day the kids from our Eicher Home moved into the new Duterte Home. A few days later the Cherne Home kids moved over to the Eicher Home so their place can be repaired. For a couple days the Eicher Home was completely empty, and quiet for the first time in 18 years. Strangely quiet. I remember standing outside and reflecting on all the kids that we have helped raise in that home - the laughter and crying, the sounds of kids eating, singing, running up the stairs, playing, shouting and praying. That house, and the Cherne Home, too, has a lot of significance for me. The memories can be overwhelming at times, when I think of the kids who have been housed there, and have left for adoption or have gone other places. I wonder how they feel about that house, if their memories are as strong as mine.



In a few weeks a woman will be visiting us who spent time at CSC as a child. She is now about 35 years old. The house where she lived has been torn down in Bulacao. I wonder if she has any memories of that place, and if she'll feel sad that it no longer stands. I can remember how badly I felt watching that place go down hill after we sold it and to learn that it was torn down to build a new house. I remember so many of the kids that lived there with us, back in the day when all the kids and staff lived together. I remember pulling kids around in our wagon, and our playground where they would run and play. I wonder if the kids remember that. Or maybe, there is something about their having been uprooted from their birth families that results in their not really developing a sense of place like I seem to have.



Pardon my notalgic rambling on a Sunday afternoon.