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Brian Want's avatar

I grew up in a well-maintained but garishly appointed brick duplex in a decaying Pennsylvania town, equal parts Rust Belt and Appalachia. I was raised as an only child by lower-middle-class grandparents who dutifully met my material needs but were not stimulating companions, so like many Gen Xers, I was truly raised by television. I am struck by how many of my childhood memories involve the moody glow of one of the five (yes, five!) TV sets: the “big TV” in the living room, the basement TV where my grandparents lounged in a rec room, my bedroom TV playing MTV while I did homework, the spare bedroom TV where I exclusively watched baseball for some reason, and the small white cube TV in the kitchen, the one my grandfather referred to as “the utility set.” It was on during every meal.

When I was in middle school, I would sneak downstairs after my grandparents had gone to bed, turn on the sickly but benevolent fluorescent light above the kitchen sink, and watch the Weather Channel at a low volume on the utility set. Sometimes I would pour a glass of milk. It became a cherished ritual. Decades later, it occurred to me that I have often tried to recreate in my own adult apartments the snug mood of those evenings spent alone, briefly suspended in optimistic peace. I took in the rhythm of the national forecast and the smooth jazz that heralded local conditions. Sensing correctly from an early age that I would leave my hometown and likely never return, I contemplated our national geography and felt heartened by the maps, especially the multicolored temperature one that was covered in white numbers like Argus eyes. I imagined myself in quiet communion with all the other people watching, wondering at the souls in Phoenix, in Miami, in Tulsa. In International Falls or Minot. Even when you felt invisible, you too were on the map. And even when you were just at home, you could be everywhere.

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Matthew Long's avatar

One of your best articles yet David. Really loved reading this one.

There is no doubt in my mind that where I grew up is indelibly imprinted on my soul and continues to influence me in every facet of my life. Every time I go home to see my parents I get goosebumps on my skin in anticipation of planting my feet back on the earth from whence I came. The fields of corn and wheat and beans filled with wildlife. The overpowering scent of life after a summer rain. Even now as I sit here writing this my heart is longing to go home and have some of my mother's fried chicken.

There was no money in my childhood but fortunately for me the hills and forests don't care where you came from or how much coin you have in your pocket. Where we come from greatly influences who we are.

All the best my friend and thanks again for a beautiful essay.

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