September 10, 2003

My Sense of Place

             The relationships established in a certain space or environment define place.  A room filled with two chairs, two desks, two lamps, two beds, one refrigerator, one microwave, and one television exemplify space.  With the presence of a roommate or any previously established social bond, space is transformed into a place.  According to “Nature and the Sense of Place,” “we connect the salient physical characteristic of a place with an event, or events, that we know happened there, or are supposed to have happened there, as a way of making the event(s) concrete and the place meaningful” (46).  The events or established relationships transform space into a familiar place.

            At the very hub of my sense of place is my home, located on 18923 Whitewater Lane.  For me home is not a space, but a place where I have forged many close and important relationships, namely with my mother, father, and brother.  I am a people person and thereby thrive upon social interactions.  Relationships are what most influence my growth.  The small three-bedroom house has been my home ever since I was born.  It has seen many of my

 family’s troubled as well as happy times: the silver blue couch located in the living room is the site of family movie time;  the newly replaced coffee table in front of the television is the site of dining while enjoying the evening news or prime time shows; the side yard running lengthwise along the left side of the house is the site of watermelon consumption on a hot, summer night.  The social events define the place, thus imbuing the place with personal meaning.  I take notice of these little details not because of what they are, but because of familial bonding that allows me to recall the places.  As the Romans believed, the uniqueness of my home on Whitewater appears to be embodied in a spirit, or genius locus, thus making home very personal because of the social events that took place there.

            Straying farther from the hub is a place located on 4040 Saltburn Road, the home of my maternal aunt and a site of continuing social interaction among others.  Here I bond most tightly with my youngest cousin, Irene.  Her three foot tall, blonde doll reminds me of all those sisterly discussions we held in her room.  Perhaps our close relationship spawned out of the fact that usually we are the only two girls at the parties my aunt hosts at her place.  My aunt’s house is a highly ranked social site on my radar, for she hosts monthly pot lucks to which I am often invited.  Herein lies my opportunities to build relationships outside of the family circle: the green couch located in the master bedroom evokes the memory of playing Sardines with a bunch of younger sons of family friends; the game room area upstairs, complete with three computers, reminds me of the many late nights the boys, Irene, and I spent playing cards and computer games.

            The least defining of my sense of place is the classroom on the first day of school.  On the first day of college in PAR 104, I, overwhelmed by a bunch of new faces, can hardly recall what was found in that space.  Over a span of a couple of days, I started to notice the way the tables were organized so that we could hold discussions in that place.  Through the formation of the discussion circle, I came to recognize and familiarize myself with my peers.  During the computer activity in which we were instructed to emulate a previous student’s website, I can recall how I helped Austin figure out how to change font colors.  Minor details of the site of interaction further enhance the memory of peer bonding.     

            My place is a personal term for those spaces constituting the memory of establishing or cultivating relationships, whether with family or classmates.  The distinction between the various places is the differing intensities of the relationships.  The hierarchy organized from most meaningful places to least parallels the closest of relationships to the farthest.  Interestingly enough, the hierarchy also reflects a continuing decrease in levels of acceptance and belonging.