Have you ever thought about how many stories, songs and themes revolve around the concept of home, and finding your way home?
The theme of “The Wizard of Oz” is summed up by Dorothy when she said, “there’s no place like home.” In “The Grapes of Wrath,” the family took to their car (their only home during the Great Depression) to seek a new home in California. The movie “Beautiful Girls” sees Timothy Hutton going home for his high school reunion. In my favorite television show, “The Killing,” the main character realizes that home was not a place; but was the feeling she had with the person who knew her best.
It’s nearly impossible to count the number of songs that speak to this theme. There’s “Homeward Bound” (Simon and Garfunkel), “Two of Us” (The Beatles), “You’re My Home” (Billy Joel), and “My Way Back Home” (Dawes), just to name a few. And let’s not forget the famous adages: “Home is where the heart is,” or “home is a state of mind.”
All these references and themes make me wonder if we have all — at some point or another — tried to figure out where we belong, and where home actually exists.
I’ve thought a lot about the concept of home and that journey toward it over the last year. For nearly all my life, San Diego was home. It was the place I grew up, where my family lives, and where I made a life for myself. And then I left it all behind when we moved to Indiana to — literally — make a life and home in a new city, state and house.
One of the most extraordinary experiences I’ve had in my life was driving four days across country, away from San Diego and toward Terre Haute. There was something incredibly freeing about knowing that all I had was the open road ahead and what was in the car with me. Even if I wanted to turn back, there was not a home to go back to (in the general sense). Our belongings were gone and the people and pets that mattered most to me were not there anymore. I don’t remember ever feeling that unconfined in my entire life — there was no going backwards; only forward, to a new idea of home.
We’ve been in Indiana going on nine months, and I’ve come to find that my core feels home. Not necessarily because of the physical structure I live in (but that helps too). It’s because my state-of-mind is here. I belong in this place — both physical and mental — with everything that symbolizes home to me.
But what has also solidified for me the idea that I’m home is how much has changed in the life I left behind. The home we lived in for 11 years does not have any resemblance of us. It’s occupied by someone else. Friends that I was close to in San Diego have also left to start life elsewhere. Restaurants we frequented every week have closed their doors. The elementary school we attended for three years has lost teachers and community members.
These observations are not meant to be depressing. They’re just symbolic of change and how life moves on, even if you’re not there. They’ve helped me realize that for me, home is not where I’m from; it’s where I am.
So what is home to me?
It’s the place where I am at peace, with myself and my surroundings. It’s where I feel calm. Home is the family I surround myself with each day, and the pets that follow me from room to room. It’s the few treasured items on my bookshelves and the music that plays while I write on this blog. And I know now, more than ever, that I am home.
“I admit that these answers that I seek
Are all to questions I’ve never known
But I pray to keep on looking for as long as I can roam
And when the world finally fulfills me
I will not forget my way back home.”
— Dawes (“My Way Back Home”)
I met Alexandra Burt a few years ago when I reviewed her novel, Remember Mia, and she wrote an awesome guest post for my blog. Today I am fortunate to call her one of my virtual friends as we’ve gotten to know each other more through social media. We both share the same love of dark character-driven television dramas.
So when the opportunity came up to read her new novel, The Good Daughter, I jumped at the chance. I loved the books, and the characters are so compelling and the story is a page-turner.
One of the things I love about so many books and well-written television and movies is how setting/place plays an important role in the story. If done well, the setting really becomes another character in the story. Alexandra does this extremely well with the setting of Texas in The Good Daughter.
I’m so excited Alexandra’s sharing another essay here today. In this post, she writes about her home state of Texas, and how she came to love the Lone Star State and how it became an important part of this story.
On a personal note, when we drove from San Diego to Indiana last summer, we spent half that driving time going through Texas. The size of the state is almost unbelievable, until you’ve spent 10 hours driving from El Paso to Dallas, surrounded by only big skies and vast fields. There’s an overwhelming beauty to it, which Alexandra captures so well in her essay below and in The Good Daughter.
Before I turn it over to Alexandra, here’s the description of The Good Daughter (from Amazon):
What if you were the worst crime your mother ever committed?
Dahlia Waller’s childhood memories consist of stuffy cars, seedy motels, and a rootless existence traveling the country with her eccentric mother. Now grown, she desperately wants to distance herself from that life. Yet one thing is stopping her from moving forward: she has questions.
In order to understand her past, Dahlia must go back. Back to her mother in the stifling town of Aurora, Texas. Back into the past of a woman on the brink of madness. But after she discovers three grave-like mounds on a neighboring farm, she’ll learn that in her mother’s world of secrets, not all questions are meant to be answered…
My Texas ~ By Alexandra Burt
I grew up in the East Hesse highlands of Germany, a densely forested low mountain area. A most magical region where I roamed the woods and rural fields with skinned knees. I had bigger plans even then, as if my life felt temporary somehow. For as long as I can think back I wanted to go to America. In my mid-twenties I boarded a plane and after a short stint in Louisiana, I drove into Texas from the east. I left the bayous of Louisiana behind and made my way to the Lone Star State. Texas had never been my choice; my husband was stationed at Ft. Hood, the most populous military instillation in the U.S. Such was the military life, you go where they send you and just deal, as all military families do. I wasn’t sad to leave the humid and subtropical climate of Louisiana behind, including the copperheads and bugs as big as the palm of my hand. Even though a large sign exclaimed ‘Welcome to Texas,’ I didn’t know I had arrived. The coastal marshes and swamps remained for miles on end but finally I spotted piney woods that gave way to the interior lowlands with their gently rolling hills and larger forests.
The first thing I learned about Texas was its enormity. Putting the size in perspective demanded distances be listed in hours it takes to get somewhere (Texas is about 800 miles long, that’s almost 1,300 km) and was the equivalent drive my family used to make going on holiday from Germany to Italy every summer when I was a child. My initial impression of Texas was a juxtaposition of vast expansion and constant change of terrain. As the years passed, I explored the beaches of the Gulf Coast, Big Bend country with the grandeur of the Old West, prairies and lakes, the panhandle plains, and rolling hills and canyons—Texas was seven different places in one, really.
The second thing I learned was that the Texas climate is as varied as its regions: from arid in the west to humid in the east, from subtropical to desert-like. I spent the next years witnessing frequent tornadoes, tropical hurricanes coming from the Gulf Coast, and significant floods. I struggled with the essence of Texas, just couldn’t connect with it. How does this land go from arid to flood stricken, from cracked soil to batten down the hatchets to keep your belongings from being carried down the street as your yard turns into a lake? Every morning I woke with a clear need to feel at home while something inside of me resisted.
And every day I wrote about other cities, other regions, other places. Texas was not only hard to love but much harder to write about. I felt constricted and consciously knew my innate attitude was the origin of my feeling of ‘not-belonging.’ I loathed summers, they seemed to demand a certain kind of grit that I wasn’t willing to extend to a place that I was eventually going to leave behind. All I ever thought about was fall, I looked forward to it like a kid awaiting Christmas. When the birds gathered for their great migration south, when grass went dormant, and Halloween loomed on the horizon—then and only then it was time to rejoice. But then… the next summer loomed and the long fall and winter shadows were short-lived and temporary.
There was no reprieve in sight and there just wasn’t anything to love. How do you thrive in 100 degrees in July, which is over 40 Celsius? How do you get used to melting candles when your air conditioning goes out? I’ve seen it with my own eyes; first the candles turn soft, then their base shifts, ending up in an unrecognizable heap of wax with a crooked wick. How do you connect with wilted crops in the fields and a heat visible to the naked eye? What’s to love about mirages and wavy lines on pavement, and something that looks like steam rising from a road or sidewalk after a summer rain? How do you live with your heels digging into asphalt soft as a sponge and dogs’ paws unable to walk on it for weeks on end without blisters forming on their pads?
I admit, I found Texas a hard place to love for the better part of 20 years. I was reluctant to invest any feelings in the union, after all we didn’t mean to stay, had thought about moving for years, but never got around to it. There was no specific state we wanted to move to and since it was all the same to us, making a choice was the equivalent of pointing a finger at a map with our eyes closed. If we were going to move, we decided on New York City as our first choice. After all, it was the city that I visited often and immediately a feeling of home had descended upon me. It had the same climate I was used to, the buildings were sturdy and made to last, nothing like the clapboard houses and Texas bungalows with sandy clinker bricks and fireplaces that were just for show.
There are only two kinds of Texans: born and raised, or, as a popular bumper sticker goes, ‘I wasn’t born in Texas but I came here as fast as I could.’ But neither one was true for me. Where did I fit in, who was I and how could I embrace this land that I looked upon as an arranged marriage, temporary at best? Was I a transplanted non-native tree that just didn’t thrive in this climate? I knew I was partially to blame, I set my stories in New York City and California, as my way to escape and vicariously live somewhere else. I could write about other places forever but why was I incapable of appreciating the place I lived in? Would I feel at home somewhere else? There was a flicker of a recognition; what if moving was just a temporary fix and eventually the novelty of another state would wear off and I’d complain about cold winters and rainy days?
I wanted to write about Texas, longed for it to seep into my pores and change me somehow. As the years passed, it seemed like a waste to live here for decades and not be touched by its rich history: Conquistadors on a Texas beach in search for God, gold, and glory. But this was Indian country, with vibrant societies and cultures and even though Spanish conquistadors had claimed both glory and gold, they had also destroyed native culture along the way. My favorite hiking trail is around a local lake, where I found arrowheads and encountered a local woman who told me of native spirits haunting rural properties, how angry they were and refused communication with the living, wanting nothing to do with the people who had destroyed their way of life. I suddenly understood the essence of the land, felt it in the soil between my hands. I connected to what was lost, what once was. I was onto something yet there was no connection with the land as it lay before me if it wasn’t for its history.
Then one day, while driving home after an Agents & Editors Conference from Austin—I didn’t take the highway but the backroads—and on a rural road I came upon a boy on the cusp of manhood pedaling a bicycle. He clumsily steered his way through the hot July afternoon on a road hazy with heat. He wore a suit and a tie and there was a wilted bouquet of flowers in his hand as he clasped on to the handlebar of the bicycle. It was a mere moment as I passed by, seconds really, yet something stirred inside of me. I was dying to know where he was going, thought either a funeral or maybe he wanted to propose marriage. He was the picture of grit and invention, of carrying on in the face of utter opposition of everything around him. The way he defied the July heat, not even a lack of transportation kept him from his mission, the suit that was going to cling to his body once he arrived wherever he was going, yet he had put it on and went on his way. The flowers in his hands had already begun to wilt and would end up a sad bunch upon his arrival, yet still he pedaled on. I still long to know with a fierceness bordering on obsession where he was going, but most of all it was his determination that moved something inside of me. It happened then, in that instant; I was able to tease out words. I wrote my second novel and I chose a fictional town in rural Texas. I named it Aurora, which means dawn in Latin. Dawn is the beginning of the twilight before sunrise, a place I had been stuck in for so long. I couldn’t have chosen Aurora, Texas, if it hadn’t been for the fact that the rolling hills and lakes demanded stories be told and abandoned farms longed to be given oxygen to propel forward whatever life was left in them.
It wasn’t until I allowed Texas to be what it was with all its heat waves and flooding and tornadoes that the land began to tease out the love that was needed for me to be at peace. What was unlovable had become worthwhile, the strange had become familiar, and the familiar tugged on me and eventually I ended up in love. It might have been an arranged marriage, but it grew into something much more: the ‘Welcome to Texas’ sign was no longer a mocking, but an honest greeting. And one day, after I landed at the local municipal airport, I had a feeling of coming home. You can’t help but love what sustains you, as long as you give it a chance. “We’re home,” I say now as we pass the sign and I mean it.
Thank you so much, Alexandra, for sharing this post with my readers.
Other Posts You May Like:
- “On Forgetting” ~ A Guest Post by Alexandra Burt of “Remember Mia”
- Are YOU an Author in Progress?
- From My Bookshelf: Favorite Books About Writing
I have tried many different dinner systems over the years — meal planning, once-a-month-cooking, The Fresh 20, Dream Dinners, you name it! I enjoy cooking and we eat at home nearly every night (except for maybe one weekend night). But gone are the days when I had the motivation to do extensive planning and meals.
That being said, it’s still very important to me that we eat healthy meals at home made with fresh ingredients that I prepare (for the most part). So I have given myself the gift of using boxed meal subscription services on a somewhat regular basis. I’ve tried all the big ones over the years — Blue Apron, Plated, Sun Basket and Hello Fresh. I still supplement our dinners with my own recipes, but these dinners are a nice way to have fresh ingredients sent to my door along with a recipe and a shot of motivation.
I’ve decided to share my thoughts about the meal boxes — their advantages and disadvantages — and which ones I continue to use.
Before I give you my impressions of each service, let me point out a few universal things:
- Most all of these services have an option where you can try the service for free, and then continue.
- All the companies allow you to skip weeks without any penalty, as long as it’s done in the time frame. So if you don’t like the meal choices for a given week, you just pause that week.
- There was a lot of criticism at one point about these services being environmentally wasteful with all the packaging. I believe all of them now offer recycling programs so you can easily donate the boxes and cooling material. But I have to admit, recycling was never an issue for me. We already recycle EVERYTHING. So all the little containers, bottles, cans, etc. went right into our blue recycle bin, along with the broken down cardboard box.
NOTE: This is NOT a sponsored post. None of these are affiliate links and I’m not getting free dinners for sharing this information.
And now, here are my thoughts on all these meal services.
I have been using Blue Apron the longest and most frequently, and we’ve loved nearly all the meals. Even Sophie — who is the pickiest of eaters — will eat a Blue Apron dinner without (or with minimal) complaint. The ingredients are fresh and the dinners are innovative (not ideas I would typically think of), yet they are not complicated recipes. Some of my favorite recipes have been Mexican spiced beef and rice casserole, Za’atar chicken souvlaki, and fresh linguine pasta and heirloom tomato sauce.
I will say that Blue Apron has a lot of extra steps that can be cut from the cooking process. For example, you can cut your prep time considerably by using your own pre-chopped garlic and ginger. They also have you use multiple bowls for prepping ingredients. I tend to eliminate some of those extra bowls by adding the chopped ingredients straight into the pots/pans when appropriate. Less dishes to clean is always good!
Since I’ve been a customer for a while, I have a few free Blue Apron meals I can give away. If you’d like to try a few free dinners, leave me your email address in a comment below and I’ll have a Blue Apron email sent your way!
I recently signed up for Plated and have been really impressed so far. The recipes have fewer steps than Blue Apron, and the prep work is considerably less. For example, the garlic is sent in pre-pealed cloves and the cheese is already shredded. I also think the amount of ingredients they send are larger than Blue Apron. One of the recipes called for Parmesan cheese and I didn’t even use all that Plated sent. Whereas with Blue Apron, I sometimes supplemented things like Parm with my own stash.
I also like that Plated packages all the ingredients for each recipe in separate bags, which makes it easier to grab what you need for one dinner. Another advantage to Plated is you can chose which recipes you want as opposed to Blue Apron where there are two options. For example, if there’s a dish with pork chops, I’ll exclude it for a dinner option with chicken, fish or beef instead.
Plated seems to be a bit pricier than Blue Apron, but you can also adjust the number of servings and dinners you want per week. That makes it easy to stick to a budget.
I would describe Sun Basket as the more organic, non-GMO, “crunchy” and sustainable option. Many of their meals are paleo or gluten free (even if you don’t select that option). While this is great for a lot of people, my family likes its dairy and carbs. We don’t consume a lot of it, but I do like some cheese with my dinner!
The recipes we sampled were Peruvian beef stir-fry, gingered turkey meatballs in lemongrass broth, and spicy chorizo and tomatillo chili with coconut and lime. The Peruvian beef was really good, and a hit with me and Bryan. The other two recipes had too many Thai-based and spicy foods that don’t agree with Bryan or Sophie. And at the time we tried Sun Basket (last fall), there weren’t many other non-exotic options. So unfortunately this one didn’t work for our family.
Sun Basket seems like a great option for adults, or families that want an easy way to eat organic, paleo, vegeterian or vegan options. Again, not bad, but we didn’t continue the subscription. That being said, I give Sun Basket the award for cutest packaging — I didn’t want to through the boxes away!
This was my least favorite meal box services. The Hello Fresh meals I tried were bland, had very few ingredients. They were also dishes I could have easily made with my own recipes and would have tasted better. We tried were shrimp with lemon orzo (a recipe that I have made myself and tasted better) and steak with mango salsa and rice. While the steak was good, the portion was small and fed both me and Sophie. Thank goodness Bryan was not at home for that dinner because had I split it three ways, we would have been looking for more food to supplement dinner.
The Hello Fresh dinners could have used a bit more flavor and/or ingredients. While some of Blue Apron’s recipes are simple too; what makes them stand out are the spice blends used to add flavor. That was lacking with Hello Fresh.
I was also very turned off by the fact that Hello Fresh customer service was constantly calling me after I cancelled the service to find out what happened and persuade me to resubscribe.
So those are my thoughts on Blue Apron, Plated, Sun Basket and Hello Fresh. I really want to try One Potato by Weelicious because I like their emphasis on family-friendly meals. But sadly, they don’t service Indiana … yet!
It’s a nice treat to be able to use a meal subscription service once or twice a month. If you’re at all curious, I encourage you to sign up for the free offering and see which ones you like.
Have you used any of these meal subscription services? Which is your favorite (or least favorite)? Is there another one I need to try?
Happy Monday! Here are a few interesting articles from around the Interwebs.
1. You may have noticed the blogging and mom world has gone crazy with the Instant Pot. If you’re not familiar with this gadget, it’s essentially a crockpot that’s a pressure cooker and can cook meals in record time. The Instant Pot became a crazy word-of-mouth phenomenon and this article explains how the tiny manufacturing company essentially sold $14.8 million worth of product in a single day with no advertising. I have not jumped on the Instant Pot bandwagon. I still love my crockpot and it serves its purpose for me.
2. Fellow grammar nerds will enjoy this post by a Harvard linguist who reveals the most misused words in English. Number 18 (verbal) was drilled into me in college journalism class and it always drives me crazy when I see it misused.
3. As you’ve probably seen on your Facebook feed and outside grocery stores nationwide, it’s Girl Scout cookie time. Sophie recently sold boxes outside a Kroger in very cold 32-degree weather (quite a change from last year’s sales in San Diego). I thought this was a fascinating article about how Girl Scouts went from selling cookies 100 years ago to its $800 million fundraising effort today.
4. If you’re curious, these are the oldest businesses in each state. These were pretty interesting, including this Virginia business that’s been running since 1613 (even before we were a country)! Have you heard of your state’s oldest company?
5. I recently finished reading The Magician’s Assistant by Ann Patchett and really liked it. I’m currently reading The Good Daughter by Alexandra Burt. It’s really captivating! I read her first novel, Remember Mia, a few years ago and loved it. I’ll have more on this book in a just a bit.
6. Speaking of books, I joined the Book of the Month Club in an attempt to get back into reading new books. Anyone who loves books will love getting a new book delivered to their door each week. If you want to sign up, click here and get three months for $9.99 each, plus a cute tote. And if use these links I provided, I get a free book for you signing up. Of course, feel free to sign up outside of my link too.
7. Have you been watching anything good on television? I have binged through quite a few series of late: “The Crown” (excellent) and “Paranoid” on Netflix (okay). I’m happy “Homeland” is back on and it seems to get better each episode. My new favorite is “Code Black” on CBS. If you haven’t seen it, watch it! But first, watch the Code Black documentary, which is the inspiration for the CBS show. It’s about the country’s busies emergency room in Los Angeles. It’s fascinating and on Netflix.
What’s going on in your life? What are you musing about right now?
NOTE: Apparently because I used the word “crockpot” in this post, all the Related Links below are crockpot recipes. Hope you’re hungry!
Chances are you have (or had at one time) a can of Clabber Girl baking powder in your pantry. What you may not have realized about that famous can of leavening powder is it’s manufactured here in Terre Haute, Indiana!
Quick history lesson: In 1850, Hulman & Company was formed when Francis and Herman Hulman moved to Terre Haute from Germany where they made a living running a mercantile. In 1858 they opened a wholesale grocery in Terre Haute and then in 1892 opened the Hulman Building, located near the Crossroads of America (see below photo).
In 1899, they started manufacturing and selling Clabber Girl baking powder. And in 1930, Tony Hulman Jr. began a national sales campaign to make Clabber Girl baking powder a household name.
photo credit: Hoosier History SmugMug
Another little-known fact: The Hulman family also owns the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, which is home to the Indy500 races. Tony Hulman Jr. bought the speedway in 1945 as a venue to promote Clabber Girl. I’d say he succeeded!
One of the first places I visited when we moved to Terre Haute was the Clabber Girl Museum and Bake Shop, which is the same building that opened in 1892. The company continues to manufacture baking powder, along with corn starches and other spices.
It’s also home to an incredible (free) museum that shows the history of Clabber Girl, Hulman & Company and Terre Haute. It also has really cool, lifelike displays that illustrate the history of Terre Haute and how baking in America has evolved over the past two centuries.
You can venture around the first floor and check out the historical equipment. And of course, you have to have some coffee and baked goods in the cafe.
Clabber Girl also hosts awesome community events, like their Country Christmas and cooking classes for adults and kids.
I love the baking-themed Clabber Girl Christmas tree!
Traveling on U.S. Highway Route 40, which takes you into Terre Haute, is the Clabber Girl sign. It is Indiana’s oldest billboard that was first put up in the 1930s, and it always has a working clock.
photo credit: Jim Grey via Flickr
So now you know a little more about my new town and some of its historical significance. And every time you reach for your Clabber Girl baking powder, you’ll know it’s manufactured at the Crossroards of America!
Let me know if you ever come to Terre Haute and I’ll buy you a cup of coffee and pastry from Clabber Girl!