Having been back home in Portland for a week, I’ve had time to reflect on my trip to Minnesota with Erin, and I can say without reservation that it’s all good. The week in the Motherland was the best thing I could have done for myself. Though it was much more emotional than I’d expected it to be, the trepidation and concern I’d felt before hand turn out to be for naught.
I had six full days to reconnect with my past and my family, and upon leaving I felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Most of it was the family piece of the puzzle, but I’ve done a decidedly poor job of acknowledging how I got to be the person I am. I’ve left my past as far behind me as possible, without examining how it molded and impacted my life. In so doing, I’ve repressed a lot of memories- not all of which were bad. In fact, when I look back, particularly at my college years, there are far more good memories than anything I might characterize as “bad.”
Wandering around the Macalester College campus was an interesting trip into the dark recesses of my memory bank. A lot of things came back to me- the day I met my first wife, the evening I spent crawling through the tunnels underneath campus, the intramural football team I quarterbacked with receivers who were too stoned to catch passes from me. I remembered the day my parents dropped me off for orientation my freshman year, leaving me feeling as liberated as I was terrified. Few times in my life have I felt so lonely, but that feeling was quickly replaced by the recognition that my new adventure was only just beginning…and it was most certainly an adventure.
I flashed back onto some of the truly strange, different, and things-you-should-really-only-do-in-college things- like the time I filled a four-hour radio show on WMCN, the campus radio station, with songs about masturbation. You’d be surprised how easy it was to do that, even in the early 80s. Yes, Virginia; there’s a time and a place for that, and it’s called “COLLEGE.” There was the time I somehow managed to shut down an entire course at Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. Something about being dressed as Elvis and walking around with chanting acolytes who strewed rose petals in my path…but that’s another story for another time. Maybe.
I learned a lot about myself during those four years, mostly things that I wouldn’t acknowledge, understand, or fully appreciate until many years later. I got to experiment with life in many different ways, some worthwhile and educational…and some not nearly so much. Still, I can look back at that time with a wistfulness and sense of gratitude that probably wouldn’t have been possible prior to my trip back to Minnesota.
Going back to Walker, my hometown, helped to see that no, you really can’t go home again (or in my case, I don’t particularly want to), but that tiny town of 941 people will always be where I’m from. I have no desire to return to Minnesota (particularly northern Minnesota), but I spent the first 23 years of my life there. By the time I left, I was an adult, well on my way to becoming the person I am today. Growing up in Minnesota is largely responsible for me being who I am today. After all these years, I can finally say that’s a good thing.
After years of counseling, reflection, heartache, and now a trip back to where it all began, I can look at myself in the mirror and feel at peace. I like who I am, the person I’ve become…and I can’t begin to fully and adequately describe the journey it’s taken for me to reach that point. No, life isn’t perfect- nor do I expect it to be…but I’m in a pretty good place. Even better is that I can recognize that and feel as if I’m worthy of it. That’s not something I could have said about myself even a few months ago. It’s difficult to accept being loved when you’re not convinced you’re worthy of it.
I suppose the best way I can describe where I am is what I say when I’m joking with friends- “It doesn’t suck to be Jack.” There’s a lot of truth in that. I’m in a good place, and while there are things that perhaps aren’t what I might like them to be, those hurdles are by no means insurmountable.
It’s kind of a shame that it’s taken me so long to feel as if I’ve gotten my @#!% together…but the good news is that at least I am in the process of doing just that. Better late than not at all, eh?
No, it does not suck to be Jack….
