Should I stay or should I go now?
Should I stay or should I go now?
If I go there will be trouble
An' if I stay it will be double
So come on and let me know
Should I stay or should I go?
- The Clash
I have been thinking about place a lot lately. Part of it has been in relation to the work I'm doing for school - thinking through cities as places and what makes a city. But more acutely I/we have been thinking about my/our physical place in this world. Nine years ago, armed with little more than good intentions, my family and I moved into Dimond Estates trailer park. As I woke up every day that summer my mind would flood with the thought "Crap, I live in a trailer park." Something about moving into a home that has wheels and a title filed with the Department of Motor Vehicles brought me face to face with some basis and feelings I didn't know had woven into my psyche.
Over the years I learned to love our neighborhood. It is a multi-cultural urban environment tucked away in South Anchorage's commercial district (a seemingly endless landscape of strip malls). On the other hand the park is a ramshackle collection of over 500 units of mostly sub-standard housing. There in lies the battle of place that has been raging inside of me. I love my neighborhood but I have developed a disdain for my house.
Starting last fall, when a broken shower fitting leaked water all over our bedroom and enhanced by a broken sewer line this spring, a discussion has been ongoing about moving into a new house. Our youngest daughter, who can't remember living anywhere else, has repeatedly stated that the trailer is home while my wife endlessly browsed for a new home on the Internet. Meanwhile I became the living embodiment of The Clash's song Should I Stay, Or Should I Go?
Nearly two weeks ago we looked at a house (this was the only house I personally have been interested in during this entire process due to the fact the Anchorage is LOADED with UGLY homes that cost a TON of money). The house was one of the 10 oldest homes in Anchorage. Built in 1914 to house government employees that had been brought to Anchorage (fresh off their work building the Panama Canal) by the federal government to build the Alaska Railroad. The house was awesome! A cute 960 square foot, two story, house on the bluff above Ship Creek in the oldest neighborhood in Anchorage. My historian side was alive, but my practical side won out. We simply could not move 5 people into that tiny house after living in our palatial 1300 square foot double wide (450 square feet ends up being a lot). So in the end that dream died.
This past Monday night I went for a run. As I stepped out the door I clicked on the newest episode of Rob Bell's (1) Podcast - The Rob Cast - as my workout soundtrack. Rob was talking about being from where you are. He was unpacking the idea of loving the place you are in, and if not moving. It was a version of the struggle my soul has been engaged in for nearly a year. As I ran, and listened, I was washed over with the feeling that our 1973 Kentwood doublewide is still home. I was baptized into the idea that we can stay - we can continue - we can love the place we are from.
Facebook this week has been loaded with images like the one above generated by a website promoting the upcoming movie Straight Out Of Compton and Beats Audio. I've seen a good many friends generate images declaring their pride in place. So I guess, in the end, what I'm trying to say is that I'm straight outta Dimond Estates...
(1) Ok, I know I just lost a bunch of readers right there because I mentioned Rob Bell. I'm coming out of the closet. I like Rob Bell. I'm not interested in debating Rob's theology (especially with those who have not read his books - in particular "Love Wins") with anyone so I won't be responding to comments posted about that.
I have learned a great deal from Rob over the years. At points in my life his teaching has rescued me from despair and given me hope, and frankly isn't that is what pastors/teachers/preachers are supposed to do? So I said it, I like Rob Bell.
Over the years I learned to love our neighborhood. It is a multi-cultural urban environment tucked away in South Anchorage's commercial district (a seemingly endless landscape of strip malls). On the other hand the park is a ramshackle collection of over 500 units of mostly sub-standard housing. There in lies the battle of place that has been raging inside of me. I love my neighborhood but I have developed a disdain for my house.
Starting last fall, when a broken shower fitting leaked water all over our bedroom and enhanced by a broken sewer line this spring, a discussion has been ongoing about moving into a new house. Our youngest daughter, who can't remember living anywhere else, has repeatedly stated that the trailer is home while my wife endlessly browsed for a new home on the Internet. Meanwhile I became the living embodiment of The Clash's song Should I Stay, Or Should I Go?
Nearly two weeks ago we looked at a house (this was the only house I personally have been interested in during this entire process due to the fact the Anchorage is LOADED with UGLY homes that cost a TON of money). The house was one of the 10 oldest homes in Anchorage. Built in 1914 to house government employees that had been brought to Anchorage (fresh off their work building the Panama Canal) by the federal government to build the Alaska Railroad. The house was awesome! A cute 960 square foot, two story, house on the bluff above Ship Creek in the oldest neighborhood in Anchorage. My historian side was alive, but my practical side won out. We simply could not move 5 people into that tiny house after living in our palatial 1300 square foot double wide (450 square feet ends up being a lot). So in the end that dream died.
This past Monday night I went for a run. As I stepped out the door I clicked on the newest episode of Rob Bell's (1) Podcast - The Rob Cast - as my workout soundtrack. Rob was talking about being from where you are. He was unpacking the idea of loving the place you are in, and if not moving. It was a version of the struggle my soul has been engaged in for nearly a year. As I ran, and listened, I was washed over with the feeling that our 1973 Kentwood doublewide is still home. I was baptized into the idea that we can stay - we can continue - we can love the place we are from.
Facebook this week has been loaded with images like the one above generated by a website promoting the upcoming movie Straight Out Of Compton and Beats Audio. I've seen a good many friends generate images declaring their pride in place. So I guess, in the end, what I'm trying to say is that I'm straight outta Dimond Estates...
(1) Ok, I know I just lost a bunch of readers right there because I mentioned Rob Bell. I'm coming out of the closet. I like Rob Bell. I'm not interested in debating Rob's theology (especially with those who have not read his books - in particular "Love Wins") with anyone so I won't be responding to comments posted about that.
I have learned a great deal from Rob over the years. At points in my life his teaching has rescued me from despair and given me hope, and frankly isn't that is what pastors/teachers/preachers are supposed to do? So I said it, I like Rob Bell.
A trailer is basically a tiny house that is pre-constructed. there may be no want to spend months planning and designing, it is already performed.
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