The last couple of years of my life can be described in a single word: nomadic.
I have not had a "real" home to call my own. I used to have an apartment, and while it was at times messy, and by the time I was leaving for seminary it was starting to get infested with critters thanks to my neighbors, it was never filthy and it was as permanent a base of operations as I have had since leaving my parents' house. One of the ways that I know that I am home is how I set up my environs and settle in - as in the case of my apartment, I had my bookshelves full of graphic novels, my closet full of collectibles and short boxes filled with comic books, comic book art framed and hanging on the walls, and even what was affectionately called my "Command Center," which was chock full of computers and equipment.
Here's some inkling of what my apartment looked like:
That's just two of the 4 bookshelves, and a core sample of the comic book art.
[Sidebar: I bought all of the art at a 'Con 4 or 5 years ago, and shortly after I bought Spider-Man 2099, I met Peter David (https://www.peterdavid.net/biography/) who was one of the big-time writers for Miguel O'Hara, and even though I promised myself that I would not geek out, I totally geeked out and was all fanboy. He's my favorite author of some my favorite books. He signed the picture for me. It is a prized possession because that was a cool moment.]
Having had a pair of established bases of operation - first, my parents' house for almost 20 years, second, my own apartment for another 5 years - I found it a new and unusual experience when I went to the seminary and I had my essentials with me here, and non-essentials in storage in a parish back in New Jersey. I've always traveled lightly, carrying that which I am reasonably certain that I will need and learning to make do without that which I do not need or simply want. Essentials only, creature comforts if there is capacity.
The semesters at the seminary basically run on the same schedule as a typical college - Fall and Spring semesters, starting in late August/early September and then in January, respectively. So when the Spring semester ended in May, I naturally moved out of the residence hall and back to the parish in NJ where I live between semesters and assignments.
That was Move #1.
The rest are as follows:
- Move #2: from the parish back to seminary for a week for a workshop.
- Move #3: from the seminary back to the parish for an overnight.
- Move #4: from the parish to my summer assignment.
- Move #5: from the summer assignment to a week-long retreat.
- Move #6: from the retreat house back to the parish.
- Move #7: from the parish to an entirely different parish - this was the big one, as I moved EVERYTHING.
- Move #8: from the new parish to the seminary.
Fortunately, most of those moves were minimal - only the stuff I needed with some optional non-essentials. But that big move, #7, was massive. I recruited some of my cousins for help, and once I got everything into the new place, it was relatively easy to spread out and do my thing.
At first, I saw it as trouble - were there things moving about above my head of which I had no knowledge? was there some other plan to which I was not privy? - but I eventually came to see it as a blessing, because I could actually unpack my books and my life and bring almost all that was in storage back out. My life was accessible and it seemed more realistic to me now that I had more than just 3 hots and a cot, but space to call my own. I was able to bust out my library and that truly helped to make it home:
Suffice to say that, while the books are not at my finger tips while I am at the seminary, they are far more accessible to me than when I was in the other parish. I am literally closer by half the distance and time. They are no longer in storage several stories below, in a basement that could survive a WWII-era concussive blast, and sealed in plastic. They are on the shelves along the walls. And my command center is not the primary system that runs the rectory, not by a long shot - but I do have it set up, and when I bring certain systems back between semesters, I will be able to get it all up and running with great ease.
When I was doing my undergraduate studies, I found that the word "suite" was a cruel manipulation of the English language. There was nothing "sweet" about living in a "suite," as you were stuck with 7-8 other people and it was a crapshoot as to what life was going to be like and how the physical arrangements would hold up. But here... I have a bathroom of my own; I have a bedroom with a closet; I have a sitting room with a closet. I have access to a kitchen which is stocked and ready. And the pastor is a kind-hearted man who is also a friend of mine from way back in the day. All in all, it is quite the upgrade.
So does moving draw considerable amounts of vacuum? You bet it does.
So is moving something that I want to do again anytime soon? You bet I don't.
So am I glad that I am settled in my room at the seminary? You bet I am.
There was a bonus to my move back to seminary, as I had made a request of my father to have a new bookshelf. I wanted something that would sit on my desk without taking up too much space, and I wanted to be able to quickly disassemble it so as to get on my merry when it was time to move out again - my, I wonder what put that idea in my head? Hmmm...
We had discussed some ideas, and I suggested using dovetails. I sent him some videos from YouTube, and he just took off and ran with it. Once it was ready, I brought it to the seminary, and here's the progression:
The rubber mallet and a chock-block, just in case something got jammed up and wouldn't slide; I didn't really need this at all.
Starting to assemble...
This is where it is going to be:
And here we go:
And the finished product:
Honestly, I have to say that I am thrilled - not to have "new things" just because they are things, but because (1) it shows that I am blessed and fortunate to have good people in my life to help me out and (2) because I have some measure of permanence. No matter what, it is always great to have a place to hang my hat, a place that I can call my home.