It’s a question I have been asked a thousand times. It’s also a question that is very difficult for me to answer. The thing is, I was born in one state, moved to another at the age of five, then another at the age of seven, and another at eight, and another at nine – and so forth. I have no discernible accent and when asked this popular question, I have to stifle the incredible urge to deepen my voice and reply, “Lots of different places.”
To make matters more confusing, I can honestly say that until now, I have never been to a place where I felt at home. “Where you are from” should be the place you think of as “home,” should it not? It should be the place you dream of returning to after a really hard week or a traumatic event or too many days of bad weather in a row. It should be a place you identify with and that ultimately, at the end of the day, makes you look forward to getting up in the morning.
It’s been decades since I’ve felt that way.
But I feel that way now. And so, after nearly thirty years of interviewing locations across the globe, I have finally made my decision. I’ve chosen my home. Because we can do that, you know. Home is not tied to birth or blood or material things. It’s not necessarily where you hang your hat and it’s not where you park your car. It’s whatever and wherever you want it to be. Hell, my daughter’s “home” is Saffron City in the fictitious (or so I think) Pokemon universe.
Kindly bear witness. From now on, when someone asks me, “Where are you from?” I know what I’m going to tell them.
“San Francisco.” City by the Bay.
God, I love this town. ☺