I miss Central New York. I don't think I've ever uttered these words before (or written them for that matter) and I certainly never expected to.
Growing up I clung to being an "outsider" for some reason, despite the fact that that word described me about as well as it describes John McCain as regards Capitol Hill. "I live in Syracuse, but I was born in Massachusetts," I would assure people as a teenager.
This originated from the deep roots the families I grew up around had in the area - kids who lived just a block away from their grandparents and cousins, fathers and sons who built bonds over their love of the Bills and SU basketball. I was equal parts jealous of their given community ties - my own family was spread out across New York State, in Florida, Texas, Maryland - and dismissive of them - some Syracusans remain in the county for the entirety of their lives, something which to me smacked of small-minded parochialism.
As bratty as that attitude may have been, it developed out of a sense of loyalty to my own family's values: independence, experience, expansion - though, admittedly I never thought about it in those terms as a kid.
My dad's family had moved around the country in his childhood, such that he and his three siblings were all born in different cities. My mom's family was still in large part clustered in Upstate NY, but they weren't within walking distance at any rate and my maternal grandparents lived in Florida for most of my childhood.
Not exactly globetrotting, by any means, as you are probably already thinking, but as a kid one hardly needs an excuse to feel left out in any slight deviation from the norm. And the norm was and is north side italian grandparents straight off the boat, parents who graduated from Bishop Grimes too, or Solvay or Henniger maybe.
So, four months after moving of moving away from Vassar and to Washington and as we advance deeper into fall, I find part of me missing the familiarity of my hometown, Syracuse. It is, at least in part, nostalgia for past falls - the return to school with its sharpened pencils, new school shoes and afternoon soccer practices; the colors seen out of car and bus windows riding to sporting events or to go apple picking at Beak 'n Skiff.
Also, it is small, simple, manageable... unpretentious, plainfaced - all the things that once drove me away from it screaming, clamoring "more, bigger!" are also part of its charm.
It makes me think of all this election season talk about small towns and small town values, which I don't really buy in to; I think people everywhere have these so-called small town values--family, loyalty, simplicity and morality for example.
But in big cities, in young cities, these are locked in an arm wrestle with idealism, ambition, adventurousness. That isn't to say that no one is idealistic or ambitious in Syracuse, or that no one is simple in New York City or D.C., it's just about proportion and priority. I'm digressing.
There is a unique excitement when, wearing my sweatshirt with the orange letters Syracuse emblazoned on it, people chat with me about their CNY roots. I'm a native now, having given my formative years to the city.
And while I chose to leave and to move here, quite happily, I'm beginning to wonder not if - but when - I will choose to go back and make an impact in a different way. I watch the campaign of democratic congressional candidate Dan Maffei and wonder.
This sentimentalism may dry up (or maybe 'freeze' would be more appropriate) come November, when I'm getting calls from my parents about shoveling snow - but I'm not convinced that'll do it either. Especially if its a green christmas in D.C.
Note: A couple days after writing this post, I was talking again with someone about Syracuse at a meeting. "I don't really like sports or heavy italian food, so I was already off on the wrong foot." That sounds about right.
(photo from syracuse.com's Your Photos, by greggor23)
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