Lost in a City of Nostalgia

I visited New York City this weekend and I really had a wonderful time. The vibrant energy and sheer volume of everything in that city really is something to behold. But as my girlfriend and I were walking home from the train station, I realized that beyond enjoying the city I had also become faintly homesick.

Chicago is not as densely populated as New York. The things to do are not quite as plentiful and there isn't quite the same vibe. But at the same time I couldn't help but get caught up in the affective memory of the architecture of the city running along the Chicago River. The sheer wonder of standing on the bridge flanked by the Wrigley Building or of the wonderful escape places like Hyde Park could afford for those weary of the pressures of the Loop. Skyline scenes standing in Grant Park at night still provide me with a deep sense of joy.

And I would suspect myself of having "the grass is always greener" syndrome except that I loved Chicago when I lived there. That is, of course, not to say anything against New York. Its just not my home. It captures a different kind of energy for me that, while exciting, doesn't quite give me the same kind of peace that Chicago does.

I am settling in fairly well to life in Princeton, make no mistake about that. I do enjoy many things about not being directly in the city anymore and I'm starting to (slowly) figure out the pace of things here. But still, I just can't quite shake this feeling I have for the city I grew up with and love. I think about driving at night, east bound on the Kennedy, when the colorful displace of the City of Broad Shoulders comes into view. I imagine the cavernous Loop with is massive walls on all sides. The marble and steel and glass form a brand new environment along the wide streets. The wonderfully abrupt sight of the L hovering over the street still, for whatever perverse reason, gives me a sense of home.

This may simply be the nature of home sickness. I bring to the fron everything about a place that I liked and I sideline everything that I didn't care for. But that may also simply be the nature of any place we come to call home. Even standing on the top level of the Target parking garage and looking to the city brings me a smile. The quieter, tree line streets who have stolen their peace among the buzzing of the city streets remain fond memories. Even the decaying landscape of the South Side as we ran through the streets on a training run still stand out in positive lights.

I got lost in my memories again.

I don't really have much of a point save to remind people that the places we call home rarely every disappear in our minds. And when we find new homes they are defined in the terms of the places we left behind. But this can be a great source of joy, and one that I relish.