Rooting; Who's In Charge Here?

Last Friday was a noteworthy day, and not just because it was Good Friday. Friday was the last day to submit an application for a job I'd been eyeing up at Lake Superior State University in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan. I don't know that I'd have been a shoe-in, although I figured I would have a strong chance, since my credentials lined up perfectly with the job requirements. Most importantly, though, this position would have allowed me to fulfill my fantasy of moving back to northern Michigan. The Sault wouldn't be my first choice of northern destinations, but it certainly would offer better trouting, grousing, and skiing than I could ever hope to find near Ann Arbor (where in fact there is virtually none of any of those).

Last Friday passed without my mailing a dossier.

As I dreamed about getting that job, I understood that packing up and and getting our house ready to sell would be a gruelling chore. I feared we might even take a loss selling the house, but being solvent otherwise, we could probably survive that. In the end, though, what held me back from applying wasn't the labor of moving, but the recognition that we would be leaving something behind.

Since moving to Ann Arbor six years ago, I haven't felt very connnected to it. I work in another city in another state for starters, when I have the time and money to spare, I drive north, and I spend far too much of my time scheming about how to establish myself somewhere other than where I am. I enjoy some of the film and music opportunities here, as well as some of the pubs, restaurant, and book stores. But I rarely missed those things when I didn't have them nearby, and I always miss the outdoor opportunities of more distant places. What with NPR, the internet, and Amazon, I figured I could be as cultured as I cared to be, wherever I chose to live.

But this spring, while clearing our meadow, I got to thinking about how I'd really like to make it flourish. I'd like to finish some home renovations we've been dabbling with for years--not just for an eventual sale, but because I want to have the satisfaction of accomplishing them, and to live with and enjoy them. Kristine and I like the church we attend very much--that has been my primary connection to this town. It is a truly extoardinary parish, and I think there are still things I can learn there. At my university, I am working on some class plans that I would like to bring to fruition--I suppose I could at another institution, but perhaps without the departmental support and the grant I now enjoy. A bit to my surprise, I believe I would miss fishing the Huron river, even if I did move to the banks of a trout stream. Kristine has a job she likes, and friends there she would miss. If we moved to the Sault, she might not find a comparable position, and might feel isolated in a totally unfamiliar place. Having felt somewhat estanged in most places I've lived, I'm not sure that last would bother me.

I'm realizing that I'm not actually so estraged here, and that there are things about our existence in Ann Arbor that are worth keeping. I have put some roots down here unawares. The Sault will have to lavish its charms on someone else.


I once had a blog, or should I say, my blog had me?

While my blog doesn't yet control me outright, it may well be the largest individual shareholder.

37.5 %

My weblog owns 37.5 % of me.
Does your weblog own you?


Tags: Life; Home ; Blogging