Saturday, December 10, 2011

I should have found by now

in 1969, my father won a Fulbright Scholarship to teach at In Ankara Turkey. I think there were a few choices of other European countries, but my parents chose Turkey as our destination for one year.
Recently I've been trying to remember aspects of that experience. There are some constants, like the trip itself, and images of certain events, landmarks and or scuffles during the process of traveling across oceans and continents with a family and a lot of baggage. But, as it recedes with the years, one thing remains clear about that, and other experiences with my family. We were rarely if ever affiliated with anything. The only ones that were, my parents, belonged to every organization that they could associated with their field.
Neither during that year abroad, or at any other time, can I remember being part of any greater group or larger framework than the five of us.
There were forays, some religious instruction that petered out, lessons of all sorts. But unlike any other family I've known, we were connected to nothing, not even each other really.
The echoes of that remain today.
My husband was so affiliated, that he rejected any connection to a larger set, due to the level at which he had to participate as a youngster.
I may just be remembering it in a completely subjective way, but I've been revisiting those years, and looking at how some members of my family now are affected by feelings of isolation and separateness. Those things were handed down, maybe unconsciously. Regardless of the nature of our experiences, they do have an origin that is all too familiar.


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