Making yourself at home

Jan. 16, 2003

Dear Julie,

I miss Northern California most this time of year. Missouri in mid-January is frigid and hard. The world seems in hibernation. There, the beach in January is only more solitary. The waves reflect the gray of the sky, and the mist chills but invigorates.

It was mystical to me, the light emitted by the minute variations in the colors of the sky and sea and sand, the soft roar of surf rushing toward its destination. The salt in the air aroused my hunger for more of life.

A day at the beach often ended standing ravenous before the glass cases at Katy's Smokehouse. The albacore or salmon never made it home.

Although it feels like my spiritual birthplace in many ways, Northern California is not home. These days we are much better off if we feel at home right where we are.

This has been a winter for staying home. Hank, Lucy and Alvie seem happy about that, since we and food seem to be the centers of their attention. The truth is, they only get really excited when we do go somewhere and take them with us.

Dogs have the ability to make themselves at home no matter where they are. Humans have to try harder.

What makes you feel at home? For you one thing must be your view of Trinidad harbor. For me it's not the irreparable handle on the faucet in the downstairs bathroom that falls off and rattles around the sink each time it's used. It also isn't the stubborn door on the back porch that must be slammed shut. (The boys who live next door must think we're angry every time we leave the house.)

These are things I know I need to fix in order to feel more at home.

There's more. An idyllic Thomas Hart Benton scene DC had an artist paint for me makes me feel good. Art has that effect, to quiet or to arouse, sometimes both.

My old friend, David, was in town last weekend. When we were in college, David and I tried to write some songs together. He plays the piano and has a pleasing voice. I tried to write lyrics.

The tunes I had any part in were awful in that collegiately earnest way. They were timid songs about alienation. We wanted to be James Taylor. We imagined we had seen fire and rain.

When David came over to see us, we listened to James Taylor's new CD, amazed at how long his talent has endured. We've been listening to James Taylor sing for more than 30 years. James Taylor's voice is home ground for me.

Making yourself at home means surrounding yourself with people and things that nurture and inspire you.

I always give DC a toy for Christmas, a gift for the child in her I love. This year she gave me a toy, too, albeit a grownup one. It's called a POD. It is an ingenious device that enables me to add 46 new sounds to the emissions made by my electric guitar. Fortunately for DC and the dogs, I wear earphones so that when I'm trying to sound like Santana no one else has to suffer.

Hibernation needn't be no fun. "A rut and a groove are the same thing," the great rhythm and blues singer James Harman said. "It just depends on whether or not you're digging it."

Love, Sam

Sam Blackwell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.