Home...Revisited

Pabst Snow Picnic with my siblings

I am writing this on the last day of Winter, 2010.  I have been thinking about Home this week.  Home in the sense of people, places and things.

A year ago, I prepared to fly down to Austin with my sister to revisit our old town and attend the wedding of friends.  I had not flown in several years and had since experienced a slow, creeping anxiety about flying.  I wrote about my experience getting back on a plane in my blog post, "Why I Am Not at Home On a Plane."  Strange that a year later these feelings are resurfacing, spurred by a dream I had several days ago about flying to China with a friend and not being able to board the plane out of sheer fear and panic.  As mentioned in my blog post from a year ago, before getting on the plane again, I had to come to grips with why I really, truly, and honestly am afraid to fly.

My mind treats flying as if it is a treacherous journey full of peril, like going to the moon.  Many people I know treat flying with the same ease as riding a sleigh "to Grandmother's house we go."  Why my mind can't see flying as what it is - one of the safest ways to travel - is a mystery.  But it is not just about the act of flying on a plane for me, it is ultimately my fear of dying manifested in a tangible form - something that I do while living that reminds me of my vulnerability and the fact that, yes, I am going to die one day, and so is everyone around me.

It's no wonder then that I cling so fiercely to things that seem constant, stable, and true: my simple life in our farmhouse with my husband and dog; the thought of sleeping in my own bed with just them in the room with me; my siblings, friends, and family who live close by; trips to visit my parents, sister, Grandmother, aunts, uncles, cousins, in places that I've known my whole life.  There is nothing unusual about just wanting to be home, whatever home is to you in that moment.

So why do I seem to revisit these thoughts of home every year when the world is just awakening again after a long winter?  Perhaps it's just my recent dream that happened to spark these feelings again.  Or perhaps it's hormones, a passing mood, a last moment of reflection and introspection as the pensive season of winter dies again.

I do know one thing for sure: I cherish these places and people more than anything, and more than ever, as adulthood forces me to face my own vulnerability and fragility in this world, and the mortality of those around me.  I never let a day pass without spending time in face-to-face, meaningful experiences with real people (not the computer screen) - and animals - doing real activities: sampling new foods, romping around outside, sharing a laugh around the kitchen table, playing music together on a stage, toasting life over glasses of wine, taking walks with my dog and husband, giving hugs, being honest, sharing emotions and memories, playing board games, writing songs, having picnics in the snow, hosting dinner parties with almost more dogs than people...

...and for now I just want all these things in my little corner of the U.S.  I travel quite a bit with my band and because most of my family lives 3-5 hours away.  I lived and traveled around the world as a child (Norway, France, Europe, etc.), and all over the country in my 20s (Boston, Idaho, Austin).  I do love to travel and experience new things, but my instinct at this point in my life as I enter my 30s, unpredictable as instincts are, is to simplify and focus on things that are close, immediate, constant, and that I've known my whole life.

As Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros sing: "Home, yes I am home!  Home is wherever I'm with you."

Best Friends and Neko Case

Hi everyone!

Today, I am pleased to participate in a charity drive through ANTI- records, with whom my favorite musician, Neko Case, is associated. They are donating $5 to Best Friends Animal Society for every person who reposts on his/her blog Neko's song, "People Got A Lotta Nerve" off her new album, Middle Cyclone, out in March.

So please, have a listen for a good cause and download the song here:

More information about this campaign can be found at www.antilabelblog.com/?p=1301.

Happy listening!

Larissa

Our wonderful and silly Best Friends:
Maggie, Sadie, and Charlie (Chuck, or Chuckles)

Chuck with my sister, Brechyn (his mom).

Outtake!


All images © Chace + Smith Photography

Christmastide

Yesterday, the freezing rain in the forecast suddenly turned to snow outside our window. In Southern Pennsylvania, snow is often more of a blessing than a common occurrence, so we settled back to work thinking it wouldn't last. But it continued, and our first real snow of the season covered the trees that line our road. The lantern outside our back door wore a little elf's cap of snow, and our dog stepped tentatively out the back door sniffing the new white stuff.

A year ago, we had just moved into this house and were barely able to get unpacked, wrap presents, and, of course, throw our holiday party. Hosting is one of my favorite things, so that was top on the priority list. It acted as a nice housewarming as well. A year later, we are very settled here. It has been nice to get started earlier with the Christmas shopping, and the planning of our holiday fête, which we hosted last Saturday.

I remarked recently to my husband how often over the past year of living back home I have looked around me and thought blissfully, "Gosh, my life is so great." I think a major reason for this feeling is that so many of our visions have come to fruition. Living on the other side of the country was an adventure I would never give up, but it made us yearn for things, some of which we couldn't quite put our finger on. Being back home has shown us that many of those things were waiting for us right here in our own hometown. I believe Ryan and I make a good life for ourselves no matter where we live, but this place has allowed us to put many of the puzzle pieces together that were once a bit scattered.

We see our grandparents frequently - even my grandmother and relatives in upstate New York are in very close proximity compared to when we lived in Texas or Idaho. We see our parents and siblings as often as possible; two out of my three siblings live here in town now. They are part of the core of our social network. As are our friends, some who live in our town, but others who come from nearby cities and remind us of our past city lives.

Even my dream of having a band has been coming together in the past month. My sister and I have added two lead guitarists/mandolin/lap steel players, bass, and drums to our outfit, The Hello Strangers. This is something I'm really looking forward to in the coming year.

I love the Christmas season for many reasons: the cheer, the little gifts and treats to pass around, the special times with family and friends, and the magic of bigger things we cannot quite explain. I love the feeling of looking back at the past year and counting blessings, while also looking ahead to the next year of life and being given a fresh start. I am grateful everyday for the things that I have, and try not to take any of it for granted.

This Christmastide, may you look back in fond remembrance and look ahead to a year full of promises and surprises.

Happy Holidays!

***************************

Christmas sweaters bring Christmas cheer!
My sister and her beau spread the holiday spirit at our party this past Saturday:

Is 1 the loneliest number?

I am alone tonight for the first time in a very long time. Being completely alone is a feeling that I always have to adjust to, like stepping into a hot bath. I grew up in a family of 6, and have always relished the feeling of having many people around me. Even now, I thoroughly enjoy having overnight guests and hosting parties.

My brother got married this weekend, and our farmhouse became the hub for almost every activity, aside from the wedding of course, including the bachelorette party, the bridal preparations, the after-party, and the after-picnic. I said hello to many, then said goodbye to many. Most people left yesterday, including a dear friend who is moving out of the area. The rest left today, including my husband who is working as a rock climbing photographer for 2 weeks. On top of all this, my sister moved out of our house and into an apartment with her boyfriend. I knew this would eventually happen, but didn't expect all these elements to happen at once.

Therefore, it goes without saying that the transition from "in good company" to "just me and my dog" was a bit abrupt. My fridge is full of wedding leftovers (beer and cake galore), and I have no one to share them with. I cannot look forward to my husband sleeping beside me. My friend, Fred, will not be coming over this week for our usual Thursday night music rehearsal (he is the one who moved). My sister won't be coming home from work at the restaurant late at night and making a pot of ramen noodles.

I am alone. But I am not lonely. I am surrounded by family and friends, have fun plans for the week, and will inevitably reap the benefits of being forced out of my comfort zone and doing things that my husband tends to do (like mow the lawn). Life goes on even though I have said so many goodbyes in the past two days. New eras begin as others end.

And as I fill my shopping cart with meals for 1, I look forward to uninterrupted hours all to myself...and to the next party.

Do you think 1 is the loneliest number?

Saying Goodbye to Texas, Part 2

We leave tomorrow for the great state of Pennsylvania! We are very excited, though I have been getting knots in my throat from time to time...very bittersweet. Here are some photos from our farewell party at the Broken Spoke this past Thursday for your viewing pleasure. It was a ton of fun and we thank everyone for coming out to celebrate with us! Alright folks, see you on the other side!

Max and Brechyn, on the way to the Broken Spoke

Brechyn and Larissa celebrate in each others' arms!

Brian and Ana

Karl (Yarrrrl)

We're two-steppin' fools


Howdy partner!

Ryan and Larissa dance one of their last dances at the Spoke

Everyone wave goodbye!

Hey Jesse Ray!

Ana and Brechyn snuggle

Things got a little wild toward the end

And a bit hokey!

After-party at the Continental Club Gallery!

Kari and Larissa get close

Larissa, Lauren, and Brechyn

And then it was off to Magnolia Cafe for some late-night eats!

Goodbye Austin!

Saying Goodbye to Texas, Part 1

This Saturday, Ryan and I visited the parents of one of our friends in San Antonio. We had a lovely time with good company. We barbecued in their yard, sat around the dining room table during an afternoon rain, and relaxed in the muted, post-rain sunshine after a delicious dinner. As Ryan and I spoke to our friend's father in the yard, I started to shift my focus from listening to our conversation, to listening and noticing him in his environment - a big-picture view. I was reminded at that moment of one of the many reasons why I appreciate having lived in so many places around the country and world: I find myself in the welcoming homes and company of so many wonderful and interesting people that I may not have ever had the chance to run into. There we sat with him, hundreds of miles away from our hometown, the other towns we have lived in (such as Moscow, Idaho, and Boston, Massachusetts), with many friends and family scattered about. We were even an hour and a half drive from our home base away from home, Austin. We were both visitors to San Antonio and to Texas in a way (even after four years, I still don't feel like a true Texan). But what I felt in that moment was an immense sense of place, albeit a portable, nomadic sense of place, like something I could pack up and take with me. This, after all, was his space, the world he had created for himself, and we were invited to glimpse it and get comfortable in it, even for just a few hours.

I have felt this nomadic sense of place and belonging before, over the years of being invited into the worlds of many people out West, back East, and across the seas. We wave goodbye to them all eventually and head on down the road. But we never forget the glimpses, the snapshots we take for our memories, and the people woven into the fabric of our lives.


This evening I went for a jog along Town Lake, the section of the Colorado River that runs through the center of Austin. The immense amounts of rain we have been experiencing in Central Texas has caused all the waterways to swell, forcing the river authority to open the dams full-throttle. Our passive, mopey "river" has become a torrential deluge, charging with its army of white caps through the center of town. There is a point on the North side of the river path where the currents are at their peak (see above). It was there that my jogging feet this evening were hypnotized into a zombie-like stride toward the river's edge. I joined a small group of passersby, mesmerized as I was by the swells rarely seen in our fair city. I could tell everyone was caught in the middle of their usual Sunday evening activities - biking, jogging, strolling - when they stopped to see this strange occurrence taking place in their city.


Like a comet passing through the atmosphere, these waves were a fleeting site not to be missed. For those two minutes or so that I stood there, feeling my elevated heart rate slowing, I felt a connection with the strangers around me and to my city that I have loved for four years.

I am not saddened by these moments, or by saying goodbye to our friends in San Antonio, Austin, Idaho, or wherever we may drive away from in the future. For these are the gifts I have been given for leaping a bit farther from the nest than I could have, and keeping my heart open to anyone willing to answer my knock and invite me in.

The Wonder of Music

Ever wonder why there are so many musicians in the world? Because making music is one of life's greatest gifts and treasures. My sister and I have been singing and songwriting under the moniker, The Hello Strangers, for several months now. Today we recorded our first CD of songs, thanks to our friend Conrad's roommate, Bruce, who agreed to record our latest tunes pro bono. It was a fantastic, musical day, the kind I would like to have more often, with good people and a warm, live recording space. It rained hard for most of the day, so Conrad made us tea for our recording session and we nestled down for several hours of good, hard work. Brechyn and I left the experience feeling filled to the brim with the kindness of people and the wonder of music.


I have attached some photos from our great day for your viewing pleasure: