Finding Community in Place
Years ago, when Markus and I talked about retirement, we spoke as if the word equated to traveling. We discussed places to go, places to revisit and places to discover.
Markus was on a year-long trip around the world when we met, and I was just setting off on a trip to SE Asia. He spoke of a globe-trotting career, but after the birth of our three kids, I resisted the idea. I’d moved a lot growing up in a military family, living in places far from family, and I wanted my children to grow up experiencing family connections.
Retiring and being empty-nesters simply means picking up where we left off when we starting raising children, right? Although we did manage a lot of traveling as a young family. We took the kids on trips to the States, visiting family and friends, around France during the years we lived outside of Paris, to Tuscany, and to places in Switzerland, of course—during the ski season especially. The girls became travelers themselves, and our eldest has settled in the States, making Los Angeles her home.
Last summer, our first retirement summer, we spent much time away from home, traveling in Italy, to Paris, and through Austria, Hungary, and Romania—and I flew to the States twice as well. We spent so much time away; we decided to reconsider our assumptions about travel equating to retirement. As in, what’s wrong with taking advantage of what we have here? We’re a five-minute walk from a green and tranquil stretch of the Rhine River, great for the things most people travel to reach, riverside walks, kayaking, and summer swims. We have bikes and immediate access to local trails, paths, and country roads—both in Switzerland and across the Rhine in Germany. The Alps, where the snow is plentiful in winter, and hiking and biking opportunities are plentiful in the summer, is easily accessible. How important is it, really to see the Arctic Circle? Glamp in a Namibian desert? Or trek the wilds of Turkmenistan on the backs of Akhal-Tekes?
We made the right decision. This year, most of our travels kept us in Switzerland. Still, in September, we made a trip to Brussels where I attended the European Writers Salon. Taking our time to return, we drove to the Belgium coast, down through Normandy, and stopped to reconnect with an old friend from the days we lived outside of Paris, before returning. This year, we saw lots of visitors from the States and look forward to a last visit from the daughter of a cousin of mine and her friend.
I did travel to the States this year. Twice. In the spring, I attended an LA writing conference, an opportunity to see friends and visit with my daughter and her partner. I flew up to La Grande, Oregon, to look in on my mom, my niece, my brother, and sister-in-law. This fall, Markus joined me on my second trip. We flew to Oregon and drove down to LA, stopping to see friends in Eugene, Oregon and San Jose. Making scenic drives and visiting friends guided you route and stopovers.
The high-desert surrounds of La Grande contrast to verdant Switzerland. The beaches of Oregon and California can’t be offered by our landlocked country. LA, of course, contrasts to my slow, bucolic surrounds. It offers sunshine and endless entertainment. At once, though both the high desert and coastal regions feel homelike as well as exotic. The experience of traveling around the States is an experience akin to having a heart with right and left hemispheres: Each hemisphere dominates the emotions for different functions in my life while also working in tandem to enrich the tasks I engage in. As I told my daughter, “I’m lucky. Whether I’m boarding a plane LA-bound or Zurich-bound, I’m heading home.
As a former military brat, I know I could pack up all my belonging and move elsewhere. My destination wouldn’t need to located in the States or in Switzerland. But when I’ve let slip the idea around Markus, he stiffens. “This is my home,” he says, “My community. Why would I leave Kaiserstuhl?” Because you can, I’d say to myself. And what’s community anyway? After all, I feel like I belong to the community of military brats. We certainly get each other—whenever we stumble across one another.
But recently, Markus attended a cultural event here in town, two women recounting their childhoods growing up in Kaiserstuhl. Markus, too, grew up in Kaiserstuhl, and many of the stories the women recounted rang familiar to me; I’d heard similar stories at the family table. At one point in the evening, I happened to look around me and realize, I know every single person in this room. As someone whose childhood and pre-Switzerland adulthood involved moving and moving and moving again, I can count on one hand how many times I’ve known every person gathered in one room—that wasn’t a classroom or at an office.
So, I thought, this is community.
For some, community is a given. For me, not, and I never realized, until I achieved it, that community can be an attainment. A worthy attainment.
And speaking of the military brat community, I’m happy to announce the recent publication of an anthology, which includes two award-winning stories of mine. My experiences growing up in a military family during the Vietnam Era inspired each. Thanks to #MiddleWestPress and #LineofAdvance. Learn more here: http://Our Best War Stories, Vol. 2
Ahhh - great piece Meredith.
I needed a bit of peace from the political upheaval in the country. Thank you.