Going Home

I was off last weekend for my semi-annual Jimmy Buffett show at Alpine Valley which is in East Troy, WI. I usually fly in and out of Des Moines to visit my peeps there and drive up to the show with some of the gang. Airfare between Phoenix and Des Moines has been incredibly expensive this year so my friend Dawnie suggested I look at going in to Milwaukee instead. It was a lot cheaper so that's what I booked.

I don't even want to know how many flights I've been on lately between work and fun but I think they're starting to recognize me at the airport. It's that many. I'm not complaining, though. Flying is fun and it signifies being off on an adventure.

I always try to get a window seat for two reasons. One, because I never get up and I don't want people crawling over me if they need to. And, two, because I love looking out of the window on take off and landing.

When it's the out of town end, I like trying to get a lay of the land and a feel for what kind of place I'm going to. Are there lots of houses with pools? Lots of parks and baseball fields? Mostly industrial? Does it have a distinct downtown? I like to puzzle it out and see if my initial impression ties with what I find.

When it's the Phoenix portion, I try to find my house or my work from the air. Both are near the airport so I can usually see one of them. I almost always see the Salt River which is near my house. There's something comforting about seeing "home".

Downtown Milwaukee - beautiful.

So, there I was getting ready to land in Milwaukee and looking out the window when I was surprised to feel that "home" spark. I was born there but we moved to Arizona when I was 9 so I feel like I grew up here. But, when I saw the city below me I couldn't deny that something in me recognized it as still being home. It was more than the usual anticipatory "I'm going to have fun" feeling. It was like I was bonded to the land somehow.

Mitchell Park Conservatory - better known as The Domes. I'd know them anywhere.

Is that possible? Are our bodies or psyches or karmas or whatever word you use to describe that somehow in tune with our birthplaces that they recognize our returns? Maybe it was just my subconscious telling me that I was back in the homeland. I don't know.

What I do know is that I felt like it was home and I had a great, but very short, visit with the place. Going home again is good.


OK, maybe this is really why it felt like home - the Miller Brewery.

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