Home is the most important place in the world...

“Home is the most important place in the world,” proclaims a yellow Ikea billboard in navy blue letters over Broad Street in the city that I live in. It proclaims it in another place as well, I think over Market Street… or Arch Street. I’m not sure which it is; I’ve only seen it from a distance, looming in the midst of tall buildings. Ikea also makes this catchy little statement on some of the Septa buses that go throughout the city. While the main purpose of this is probably a marketing scheme to get people to buy home furnishings from their Swedish superstore—where virtually everything can be put together with an Allen-wrench—I think there is something profound about it.

Recently, my parents had packed up the house and moved outside of Reno, NV.

They used to live about an hour’s drive away, which had been the furthest I’ve lived from my parents. I wouldn’t say that we are like a lot of families where the kids see the parents often after being out of the nest for a while. During college, I could go a month or so without really contacting them that much and I only lived about 30 minutes away from them. But I did find that I got along with my parents a bit better when I was away. This is particularly true about my move to Philadelphia… I still wouldn’t call too terribly often, but it was easy to go home any weekend I wanted. I’d left the nest, but the nest was always still there and so I had a home to go to when I wanted to get away from the city.

Now the nest has been removed, and it’s more difficult to go back. The environment is familiar and there are friends to visit, but it’s not the same. I went back about a week ago to pick up some things that were left behind and it was difficult. I’d only lived in that house on and off through college for about three and a half years, but it was still the place that I could easily consider “home base.” The familiarity of things is what makes it home for me; so when I went back and everything in our house was gone, it was tough to come to grips with the fact that my parents REALLY are miles away in Nevada. Despite this, though, I know their being over there is a good thing. I just have a good feeling about it and I know that all shall be well…

Because all matter of things shall be, at some point – no matter how close or distant the time – all things shall be well.

Philadelphia will now become home, and I will have “little homes” in other places like Kutztown and Allentown. Like I had said, I’d already left the nest but now should I be thinking about making my own? For all intents and purposes, I think I will be in Philadelphia for a while. At least, I would like to be; the periods between moving are all too exhausting to keep up with. I’m not too keen on being a migratory bird, that’s for sure.

The signs got me thinking about another thing, however. There is also something terribly ironic about the looming yellow signs proclaiming, “Home is the most important place in the world.” If you’re familiar with cities, then you probably know that with cities come the homeless. There are a lot of homeless people living in Philadelphia’s streets or shelters. Those signs put in their face something they already know too well, and yet they lack it, and whatever the reasons are the results are the same. But I’ve had my thoughts about the homeless shared elsewhere. I'm so fascinated by the ways in which people pass by homeless men and women. Really, it would seem as though they were invisible.

Elephants, really. Lots of Elephants in a room that everyone is trying to avoid looking at or talking about. Or, talking about in ways that are never helpful, or constructive.

I just think it’s ironic.