Be it ever so humble…

“We were stationary wanderers, running in place” is the way I describe my family’s moves during my childhood–8 in 10 years, all in the same small town–in my latest essay, “Any Place I Hang My Hat,” published this month in New Purlieu Review.

Not long after I met Don, my husband, he drove me down the wide, tree-lined streets of Redlands to the house where he grew up, a grand and dignified two-story Edwardian with a huge pepper tree shading much of the spacious yard. He told me about the tree house and swing his father built, about playing Tarzan on it as a child. I was envious of his having had solid roots in both a literal and figurative family tree, a “real” home.

So there was some self-exploration behind this piece as I moved past my feelings of past deprivation. Poor little me? Nonsense! Looking for a title, I came up with all kinds of songs with home in them — There’s No Place Like…, A House is not a …, Green Green Grass of …, … on the Range — until I found the one that rang true.

Many thanks to my brother, David, my resource and fact-checker when I write about childhood. His razor-sharp memory amazes me, as does the fact that we can share the same milieu & yet have such different recollections & impressions.

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About Alice Lowe

I am a freelance writer, avid reader and Virginia Woolfophile in San Diego, California. I have published essays and reviews about Virginia Woolf, including "Beyond the Icon: Virginia Woolf in Contemporary Fiction," a monograph in the Bloomsbury Heritage Series published in 2010 by Cecil Woolf Publishers, London. My personal essays have appeared and are forthcoming in numerous literary journals and can be followed on my blog: www.aliceloweblogs.wordpress.com.
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One Response to Be it ever so humble…

  1. priscillalong@comcast.net says:

    Very nice! I had no idea Solano beach was so close!

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