My kids have no recollection of Pine Crest Park. We spent the better part of three years walking to and from that park to play with our friends in the old neighborhood. They have no memory of it.
The Baby is a Jets fan. He also has a distinct accent and it ain’t Murlyn Hon.
My kids are from New Jersey and that is finally settling in.
There is no shame in being from Jersey. In fact, I love this place so much I’m happy that my kids have this as their home.
But I’m not from Jersey. My parents aren’t from Jersey. My memories and legacy aren’t in Jersey.
I have no roots in Jersey.
The Husband grew up 15 minutes from me in the suburbs of Washington, DC. We love our Redskins (God help us) and we fight over Orioles vs Nationals. We cheer when the Caps beat the Rangers. We share roots, in Maryland. You’d think it would be equitable-this moving our kids to Jersey thing.
But no.
His people are everywhere. The parties we attend are with his people. The children’s Grandfather was the second graduating class from the high school my boys may someday attend.Their great grandfather helped start the school. My boys may someday attend that school and be taught by their dad’s cousin. The Girl’s favorite dance teacher was related by marriage.Their current principal grew up with their Grandmother.
They’ve had cousins as babysitters and playmates at school. We are surrounded by his people and He has years of childhood memories in this place. The husband has roots in Jersey.
We live in a land of Mylods and Kings with nary a Ritz or Baker to be found.
I first thought of this when I was talking (ironically) to my King sister in law who married and relocated to her husband’s hometown. To say he is steeped in roots there is putting it mildly. There is something that is deeply good about this. She and I are both strangers in a town that didn’t feel strange for long because we have been embraced by thousands of warm and loving arms. We have each been welcomed and included as a member of each respective family. That is a beautiful thing.
Most days I recognize the blessings that I have. Most days I am thrilled to be surrounded by so much family-even if they aren’t mine by blood. Most days I know the value of these relationships and this history and I’m thrilled my kids can share it.
But some days, when I’m reminded that their ties to all that is my history are growing looser, it makes me sad. I love where I’m from and all that is still there. I wish they could know it like I do.
I just want to share my roots with them.
Never met my grandmother, can count the times I have been with cousins, aunts, uncles etc on one hand, only have been to the city twice in in fifty years, but cheered for the Giants last fall like a native San Fransican. Roots are the people not the place and the experiences of those that are close. Mine are in Maryland, DC, Ohio,Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, New Jersey Minnesota, Alaska, Thailand and San Fransico among others.
I wonder if they have jobs in any of those places
as you know, i get this…the longing didn't disappear but got stronger in ways i couldn't figure out. best thing i can offer is to visit often enough that your kids learn you and your side too. i didn't do this so much at first but am making up for lost time now. easy for me to say, miss geographically blessed, i s'pose. it's not easy but easy isn't an option these days, right? 🙂
They have at least one Aunt that will do her best to keep the Maryland roots alive! Maryland misses you guys just as much as you miss it.
Cris–i totally share your Maryland withdrawal!!
Maryland forever! =)
xoxo