A moment of morning reflection
The new house never had a "Jimmy's Room," as the previous one did. The original one in KY did. And one (each) for my sister ("S") and brother ("B"). The move meant I never returned to 'my room.' Again, not a problem. It's just a lack of an emotional anchor. When I'd visit, I'd stay in what had been B's room. It was never mine; it's still known as his. S had a room but didn't spend much time there either -- to my knowledge it's referred to as "The Guest Room" as often as not.
My "permanent" residences since college:
- Chicago (I) - 3 years and 3 apartments
- Texas - 2 years, 1 apartment
- Chicago (II) - 5 years, 3 places
- NY (Westchester Cnty.) - 5 years, 1 place
- Santa Barbara County, CA (I) - 1 year in a partner's home
- LA - 10 years, 3 apartments & weekends up north
- SB Cnty (II) - 2 more years in (the same) partner's homes
- SLO County - 18+ months in an apartment
All of which is to say I don't feel tethered or moored to a particular place. Which place do I call home? I simply don't know.
What does that mean? I don't know that either. Other than that I have been Vagabond Jim my entire life. And, I like that.
So, I'll vagabond (as a verb!) until I cannot. What happens then? I don't know. As of now it means settling down someplace cheap that I like. Current expectations: Montevideo in 5-10 years. Maybe I was just born to be a liberal ex-pat.
We'll see.
That's a very long foundation for the epiphany I had last night. Yesterday I wrote:
Checked in to my room. It's not what I expected but, then again, it's $30 a night. And, I have stayed in far, far worse. Dreadfully worse. 'This is the life I'm choosing.'
That's all true. And read the way it was intended, as written in the moment, is pejorative. But overnight that changed. A lot. Here's why and how.
The Cincinnati house without a "Jimmy's Room" - we're going to call the house "Mom's House" (for a variety of reasons) - played a larger role in my life than I typically recall. Well, really an insight about it from Mom (get used to these, they're not uncommon.)
The house looks over the Ohio River. On the water the most frequent vessels are coal and fuel barges. On the Ohio shore there is an oil depot. And, the train tracks that are regularly used. A US Highway, and corresponding truck traffic as well, runs along the rail and river freight. Simply put, it's industrial. And, there are some once working class homes mixed in too.
The first time I visited, this conversation happened:
Mom: What do you mean?
J: The barges are noisy, the trains blow their horns, the trucks engine brake, the oil depot is unsightly - I keep looking down river just to avoid seeing them.
M: That's the beauty of this place!
J: WTF, Mom?
M: This is an American artery, once the Aorta in fact*.
J: OK, ummm, yeah, OK. Sure.
M: Think about it, chump.
She was right. That river made westward expansion possible. It made Pittsburgh, Wheeling, Steubenville, Cincinnati, Louisville important places. Cincinnati was a MAJOR city once. Steel, coal, grain, beer, and sausage were moved from and through it. People too. Cincinnati was the point from which most of the agricultural products from the Western Reserve would move between rail, canal, road, and river. It didn't just make Cincy. It made the Midwest.
And then Cincinnati declined to become a rail hub. Chicago did not make the same decision. Chicago also had access to the Great Lakes. Cincinnati joined Columbus, Indianapolis, and other cities on a different path. Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Detroit, and Milwaukee would follow in the century that followed.
The largest cities in the US were built on transportation and fresh water. NYC, Chicago, Los Angeles (it had natural water once). Without both, cities grew but did not become world metropolises. This even provides an explanation for why Houston, my least favorite city, exists.
Our industrial heritage matters. That river still helps feed, and fuel America. And that's an important thing. A very valuable thing. We were once an industrial nation. We are learning the importance of that again. Economics will punish excessive short term focus. COVID and War are reminding us of that.
There is beauty in the industrial nature of the heartland. Make sure you look twice to see it. Make sure you look for its siblings wherever you are.
All of which is to say, I was wrong to disparage this room.
The bed is absurdly comfortable. Strange as it's best described as having the texture and firmness of day old mashed potatoes stuffed into a casing. But it really is comfortable. Sincerely.
Hot water is plentiful. I have an en-suite shower and toilet. The shower head is high enough for me to get under it comfortably. Even if the ceiling in the loft isn't. I have a freaking loft - how could I complain about that? Breakfast was wonderful.
I have stayed in better - The Ritz in Singapore; The Marquis de Riscal in El Ciego Spain Hotel Indigo in Puerto Natales, Chile are all magnificent hotels I want to see again.
And, have stayed in worse. A $1.50 room in Copacabana, Bolivia will always be the most memorable. That's a story for another day. Yet, even that still comes with a host of good memories attached to it. $1.50 adjusted for inflation is about $3.30 today. Sure this room cost nearly 10 times that. But it's 100 times better. That is what "value" is all about.
Quito never had rail hub potential (mountains!) Quito never had water transportation potential (mountains, again.) But, Quito has an incredible location (mountains!) that have made it a center of governance since well before the Spaniards got here. And that makes it important. And beautiful in its own way.
The difference in perspective is important.
Don't be a chump, Jim! OK?
Yes, absolutely OK!
*So, I paraphrased and used my own words. Hey, this was >30 years ago, it's my story, and literary license will be used regularly on this blog.
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