We are all from everywhere

Having visited Maui and strolled through Lahaina in my early twenties, my heart hurt even more at the recent wildfire devastation. Once we have been to a place, a part of it stays with us forever. It is no longer remote no matter its distance.

As a child growing up at the Jersey Shore, I was part of the many locals who embraced the idea that visitors who crowded roads and beaches in the summer were anathema. “Benny Go Home” signs were everywhere. We didn’t care that their dollars were critical to the economy, and we weren’t shy about yelling it from cars to let them know, either.

My lifetime of traveling and making memories of places where I may not have “belonged” upon arrival have given me a completely different view of out-of-towners, tourists, visitors. When I see people visiting a place – even one I call home – I remember how I felt doing the same, and it brings back beautiful memories.

I recently visited a D.C. museum with a friend from out of town. Far from being irritated by the bus-loads of students, I remembered my own class trips, and my own bus trips to D.C. with my mom, and other days when I explored the museums on my own – sometimes happy, sometimes sad, always nourished by the culture around me. I lit up inside. My cup runneth over.

My Benny Go Home days were not my finest moments, though at the time they seemed an appropriate expression of self-righteous indignation at being overtaken by interlopers. I can apologize and share my shame about it now, but only because life experiences offered me a different perspective.

We start out in a place believing that it is ours because we are “from” there. But as we grow we realize we are changed by the elsewheres we visit. The act of traveling diversifies our thoughts and perspectives, shapes us new different directions.

Though it’s impossible to travel to every corner, if we wander far enough we start finding as many commonalities as differences. In the end, we are all from everywhere.