Going Home

My fourth of July weekend was spent in Cincinnati, my home town. I was a little apprehensive about going home, considering some of the things I’ve been feeling and thinking lately, but I still was happy to be going. No matter what, it’s home. Before I’d even checked into my hotel, I had to go to White Castle and have a couple double cheeseburgers and fries. Nice, late-night snack. The next day, I met with a friend of mine and her boyfriend, a nice guy who’s worlds apart from her ex-husband. Thank God for that. Anyway, off we went to enjoy other foods I can’t get here, like Skyline Chili and Graeter’s Ice Cream. I was surprised to find that no one in Colorado knows how to make a soda, or even what one is. It’s not a soft drink, it’s an ice cream treat. The closest equivalent would be a root beer float. Trust me, though, it’s not the same. My time was short, though, so I didn’t get to visit all the places I wanted. It’s okay, I got to hang out with friends.

Later on the 4th, I went to my father’s house. There’s something I finally realized this weekend. Even though there are times I feel that my family is demanding too much of my time or energy, it’s just not true. It finally occurred to me that the time I was spending with my family was by my choice. How liberating that revelation was. I could enjoy the time I spent with them instead of thinking I’d later resent it, something else I never did. Really a ridiculous thing to think, but hey, when you’re in the throes of denial, anything seems logical. Nevermind denial about what, that’s for another post. Or maybe not. Mostly, it’s unimportant right now. Anyway, Friday I went to see Hancock with my father, stepmother and the twins. I’d recommend it. It’s not Citizen Kane, but it’s worth watching. I’d go again. Even full price. And I’m cheap. It was raining all day, so there were no fireworks displays. That wasn’t a huge problem, I got to see one on my way down from the airport. From I-75. While driving. Yeah, sure, giant fireworks directly in front wasn’t at all distracting…NOT. At least everyone else on the highway was watching, too.

Saturday was a picnic I didn’t really think I wanted to attend. I’m not much of a people person, and going to parties, even with people I know, isn’t always fun for me. Mostly, I wanted to go because my stepmother’s sisters would be there, and I enjoy visiting with them. As is usually the case with me, I was glad I went. It’s probably the main reason I force myself to go to these things, even if I don’t think I really want to go. I invariably enjoy myself and am glad I went. I did wind up leaving earlier than most everyone else because I wasn’t feeling all that well, but lately, that’s nothing new for me.

I took a slight detour and I found myself driving to my old neighborhood, stopping by the house where I spent 29 years of my life. I’ve always contended they were, on balance, good years, but as time goes by, it seems less and less so. Again, for another time. Mostly, I just wanted to see the place, see if the new owners made any other changes. The tree we brought back from Colorado all those years ago was pulled out almost immediately. They kept her irises, although this time, they were in a different place. Still, it was the same color, mostly. And the tree I used to climb, one of them anyway, was still there, too. It was the first time I’d been back there with a camera, so I was even able to immortalize the occasion. One of the few pictures that came out well was my first church. The first one I joined, that is. I’d been to other churches while trying to decide what I wanted to be, spiritually. It was such a good experience that I maintain the same religious preference today, some 26 years after my confirmation. After, I continued through the area where I learned to drive, on through Norwood, and finally, back to my hotel.

My last day, I spent time shooting Eden Park, something I haven’t done for over 20 years. I’d spent a lot of time driving through or just finding a quiet spot and relaxing there, a bit of heaven in the middle of the city. Or maybe, a bit of Eden. Later that morning, I met a friend and hung out downtown for a few hours. We visited the Contemporary Arts Center and spent a good amount of time atop Carew Tower, currently the tallest building in the city, before finally winding up at Devou Park in Covington, Kentucky, where most of the pictures of the Cincinnati skyline are taken. After I dropped him off, I went to spend the third day with my family. Originally, we were going to have a family reunion this weekend. I put off making my flight and hotel reservations for as long as possible, partly because I really wanted to drive, partly because I was trying to decide if I really could afford the trip. Well, I couldn’t afford the trip, but I set it up anyway. Less than a week later, I was told the reunion was cancelled due to lack of interest. I suspect it had to do with the costs more than anything. The hotel we were able to reserve cost $129/night. I don’t know anyone who can afford that. No, that’s not quite true, I just don’t know anyone who can afford it who’d be willing to pay that. Not for the hotel they’d reserved, anyway. Unimportant. My father had a picnic on Sunday, for any who were in town for the reunion. I was the only one from out of town, and mostly, it was my immediate family. Still, it was, as always, a good time. There were some things that were discussed that could have put a damper on things, but again, not important now.

All in all, my weekend was good. In spite of the oppressive humidity – which wasn’t as bad as usual according to those who still live there – I thought I’d be moving back to Cincinnati before too long. But when I saw my mountains from the plane, I realized I wouldn’t be moving back too soon. I suppose that means I have two places I can call home.

*If you’d like to see the photos I took of Eden Park, visit my Photobucket account.