Good morning from the corner of a great place called "Nucleus",

Over the past couple months I have been coming to a little place called Nucleus. It is a rather "earth muffin" sort of a place, but before you think I am maligning it, this is a term of endearment for me. A few of you might shudder at any thought of hanging out here for fear of some kind of liberal virus. Such is not the case, the people who work there are creative intelligent and display a sense of openness and appreciation fo the world in which we live.

Since I returned from Thanksgiving, I have been on what one of my colleagues refers to as "a grading initiative." It is an occupational hazard of teaching at any level. Grading is such a difficult thing, especially when you are grading writing. It is both subjective, but for the person receiving the grade it becomes profoundly personal. I remember taking grades very personally;  but now that I am 15 years into teaching at this level, I can say with a sense of certainty that it is not about person, it is about the product (and by extension the process).

Last night I watched a DVD titled Celtic Woman. It was outstanding and caused my sense of wanderlust to return to the forefront of my thought processes. In addition, I was speaking to a friend from graduate school who lives in the Detroit area. In fact, we actually got together at a Panera Bread at one point which was in the same area of the Gateway Country Store in which I worked "at the turn of the century" (literally). She flipped me some garbage about being in the same place for almost 6 years and said, "That is a pretty long time; isn’t it about time for you to move?" Her assessment was more accurate than I might have thought once I seriously pondered what she said. This returns me to the point of this blog, which is the title: at one point, my father’s relatives have been traced back into 16th century County Cork. I have never been to Ireland or Scotland, and I think I need to make that journey. Maybe it is that sense of melancholy that I have noted in some earlier postings. There is something hauntingly alluring to those two countries (and it is not the alcohol, though a great meal with a pint of Scottish ale would not hurt my feelings). I love the music and I have a colleague who spent the fall there and I have been extraordinarily bilious. In addition, I have a friend who is Scottish and he is a hoot (and also brilliant).

What gives us a sense of place, and what is that? It is grounding, familiarity, comfort? Is it based on knowledge, experience, history? I have decided my sense of wanderlust is the consequence of struggling to find a sense of place. Is it the because I was adopted? At this point is it because my entire immediate family has passed away? These sort of questions are a constant companion in my life’s journey. Why is it I have this need to have people around, but at the same time want my solitude?

This next week I will say goodbye to a colleague who succumbed in his long battle with cancer and by weeks end, I will have flown to Utah and back to Wisconsin. Before the end of the month I will be back in California. I think one of my strengths is that I can find joy in most any place I find. There is a great deal of natural beauty in the world, and - in spite of the horrific news from Mumbai; our gloomy global economy, or any other deplorable news - outstanding people everywhere. The music from the Celtic Woman group is so amazing and inspiring. There is a comfort in the honesty of their music and it creates a sense of wonder in me; a sense of wishing I was part of that world.

Allow for a 90 degree turn for a moment. This is such a interesting place; there are two dogs here in the coffee shop. It is kind of cool, but startled me. It reminds be of an old friend in Houghton named Jimmy whose dog followed him everywhere including the Doghouse (pun intended). So . . . back to place. What is this concept? How do you know you have a sense of place? I would be interested in your thoughts.

Thanks for reading.

Michael