Hot hot breaking news! I recently learned from a TV-loving co-worker that while I had my nose buried in books this spring, a boy from my hometown, David Archuleta, has become a national celebrity via the fifteen minutes of fame machine that is American Idol.
Murray, Utah. Now that's where I'm really from.
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Where I Was From
Last month, I read Joan Didion's finely crafted Where I Was From, a searing and emotional examination of California--its people, culture, history, and myths.
What am I reading this month? I seem to have stumbled upon a goldmine of blogs authored by people I once knew. People I met in junior high. Secretly stalking these paeans to procreation has caused me to reflect on where I am from, too.
Utah. I left, much to my mother's dismay, in 1997. Except for the long winter and summer breaks in college, I've never returned for more than a few days. And I don't return frequently. Aside from my family and the splendid natural beauty of the Wasatch Front, there's not much to draw me back. I always feel like a stranger in my homeland. And I pretty much always felt this way. My guess is that this is pretty natural when you're not part of the hegemonic culture. (Having left the Church at seven years old, I steered safely clear of the whole dunking ritual, after which your name is forever on Brother Brigham's rolls. In hindsight, the only real drawback was that I lacked for playmates on Saturdays in junior high when my faithful friends were out baptizing dead folks.)
What am I reading this month? I seem to have stumbled upon a goldmine of blogs authored by people I once knew. People I met in junior high. Secretly stalking these paeans to procreation has caused me to reflect on where I am from, too.
Utah. I left, much to my mother's dismay, in 1997. Except for the long winter and summer breaks in college, I've never returned for more than a few days. And I don't return frequently. Aside from my family and the splendid natural beauty of the Wasatch Front, there's not much to draw me back. I always feel like a stranger in my homeland. And I pretty much always felt this way. My guess is that this is pretty natural when you're not part of the hegemonic culture. (Having left the Church at seven years old, I steered safely clear of the whole dunking ritual, after which your name is forever on Brother Brigham's rolls. In hindsight, the only real drawback was that I lacked for playmates on Saturdays in junior high when my faithful friends were out baptizing dead folks.)
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