In another essay written by Wendell Berry, he talks about returning from New York to the small community in Kentucky where he grew up - and previous generations of his family had lived. One of his New York colleagues at the University where he was teaching, tried to dissuade him by quoting, “You can’t go home again”. Berry disagreed. In the sense that the metaphor stands for change, there is some truth - but indeed you can stay in the same community and have a sense of place. I’ve now lived continuously in the same city since 1978 - with only a brief period of months away from it.
Living in the same community makes us aware of both change and stability within it. It allows one to interact with it and take some responsibility for the changes. Flying off to other countries as I have done, allows me to have a taste of them - but not to have any sense of their continuity. Visiting New York City after a span of about 35 years was revealing. The avenue and street numbers were the same as the Chelsea I lived in earlier in the 60s, with its Puerto Ricans who had escaped from Spanish Harlem for a new life, side-by-side the affluent young who were mortgaging their lives to buy and renovate crumbling brownstones. Even then the blocks below West 20th street were being razed for new development. More recently the old brownstone where we lived in a fifth floor walk up had stone facing added- and a doorman.
Stability was one of the monastic virtues - dashing around the world wasn’t in a time when travel was by foot or cart. Our ease of travel and relocation can take away our sense of place. Living in the same place makes us aware of land, soil, water, air. If we think of these things only as an environment to be glanced at on our travels, we lose all sense that we are part of them. Even city living - in contrast to Wendel Berry’s farm community allows for some of that.
