The following is a sample of lyrics from one of John Lennon’s best songs:
Imagine there’s no countries It isn't hard to do Nothing to kill or die for And no religion, too Imagine all the people Livin' life in peace... Imagine no possessions I wonder if you can No need for greed or hunger A brotherhood of man...
“Imagine” is one of my favorite songs with one of the most inspiring messages I have ever heard. I get what Lennon means and enjoy dreaming the dream he outlines.
Lennon is calling for an end to violence and hatred that could only come with the elimination of the lines that divide people into opposing groups. In practical terms, he must be advocating for a one-world government without countries and institutional religions. I also realize that the great artist probably is not literally planning for such a world and is just fantasizing about one better than the society he found in his lifetime.
Well, there is a dark side to the song. And I see his simple dreaming coming to life as we continue fast-forwarding toward an exciting and scary future.
Lennon was describing placelessness, even if he did not mean to do that. People have no borders to argue about and defend against a perceived enemy. Wars would theoretically end once all divisions are eliminated. This is the premise of the song.
As this vision is coming true in some ways, we all lose something. Place identification is important. I believe our mental health suffers when we are placeless. One address is just as good as any other. Placelessness captures us in this in-between, formless zone that makes it easier to ignore our humanity.
The Internet is not a place, yet it is where we talk to one another, do business, and visit friends. Video meetings have replaced at least half of the interactions that once were done with all people in the same room. I believe I do not need to belabor the point I am making here; we all understand the changes of the Internet Age. I can imagine the extent of the effect on the generations who were born with the Internet as an everyday fixture.
To steer away from the Internet’s effects on place, please allow me to tell a short story.
A while back I was walking down a dead-end street adjacent to where I live. There are trees, bushes, grasses, a bridge with a creek, and a sidewalk.
I noticed lots of trash on the ground. Unfortunately, this is not uncommon, but my mind wandered and thought about the implications of what I saw.
People were doing roadwork nearby, and I figured out that this was where they came during their break. They eat then throw down the packaging even though they are only a few feet away from their trucks and other machinery. I thought to myself: “What makes someone so uncaring to come here every day and drop garbage all over the ground?”
Then I decided on an answer: These folks have no sense of being anywhere. In their minds, none of the surroundings constitute anything other than just another set of nothings that can be ignored. There is no awareness of the water that is surely polluted or that people are here, and these people dream here, love here, and wear themselves out just to have a roof to live under.
Ever seen Fred Flintstone run? The background repeats over and over. So if there is a plant and a window, we see that same plant and window in an endless loop, in the same order, as Fred runs as fast as he can. I imagine this is what the workers see when the world is viewed through their eyes—an indistinguishable string of nothings that appear again and again, and so much so, that the landscape might as well be wallpaper in someone’s living room.
These guys are probably not unique. They are much like lots of people all over.
Not often, but occasionally I drive by the house of my grandmother where I spent much of my youth. What once was a splendid little home and perfectly groomed garden now looks like a scene from a Mad Max movie.
I have never smelled anything like what, a long time ago, wafted through that space from the kitchen to the living room. There was a peculiar way she made fried chicken that combined with other smells to produce a place.
Different people now own this small plot. They evidently have no sense of yard upkeep, place, or community that is born from that sense of place.
As for me, I am affected by the reality that the place I remember fondly is forever gone. I cannot even simulate what once was, and it is like my memories have been wiped from the earth.
Apartment living offers no sense of place, at least this is accurate based on what I have seen and done. I am sure the opposite could be true, although apartment dwellers these days had rather not acknowledge each other’s presence. I guess we are all afraid that anyone could be a madman killer, and one eye-to-eye glance guarantees we will be found in pieces in his crawlspace. This is just a guess.
People who have a strong affiliation with a location are somewhat easy to pick out. I believe they are healthier and have a firm sense of self.
Many first or even third-generation immigrant families talk about the “old country.” This makes me think of The Golden Girls where I first heard the term. Once clueless about what it really meant, now I understand.
The old country is literally a place of origin but is more than just a spot on a map. Religion, language, food, dress, and music all can be traced to somewhere. Accents, the way one sits, what people do on Sunday, and all manner of preferences; people can pinpoint a beginning that is everlasting and, in their minds, unchanging.
Old places are cultural touchstones. They can instill pride.
The rest of us can have a symbolic old country, but urban sprawl does not have the same resonance as a village in Sicily or Spain. Traveling down the heart of most cities is similar to Flintstone cartoons and that sameness of things passing by in the background.
There is a Wal-Mart, big pharmacy store, big building supply store, the same chain restaurants, a big pet store, and then repeat.
Sameness is dreadful. All of our liberal (not a political reference) ideals recommend that differences make the world go round and round and inspire us with exciting ideas. Well, when sameness replaces sense of place what are we left with? I think we move further and further into Internet worlds that can only promise virtual and not real things.
It is crucial that you become proud of where you are from. I know many folks came of age under awful circumstances, and others hate the little town that limited their opportunities, but an origin helps explain me to me, you to you, and us to all others. Place is an indispensable part of identity.
You can love your origins in spite of any hardships. You can revel in the fact that you made it safe and sound from some volatile situation.
A great book cannot get far at all unless it has a setting, and the place you identify with might be somewhere that makes an appearance in the second or third act of your life story.
There is still a South. I know this in part due to people who goad me to “talk southern” for them. Other parts of the United States also can be called regions. You probably live in one.
Let us honor our places of origin and those special ones that are now called home. All kinds qualify. You may cherish a big open space, a small one in the city, a neighborhood, a single street, or many others. This is not corny or cliche, because we are talking things that really matter.
Thanks for reading. Do you have a sense of place? Is it strong or weak? The best way you can help out my writing efforts is by subscribing.
There is something weird about writing about places you used to know or love because, as it happens with people, there will always be someone who disagrees with what you have to tell about them...
Where I live now is the place I grew up in, same house. My husband, son and I purchased my mom's house in 2010 after she passed away.
So many changes in this area. Our house was once on a dirt road and now a traffic light. Houses and a golf course replaced the fields
My grandparents and dad grew up in this same small town - yes, like a freaking John Cougar Mellencamp song. I know!
I used to laugh at our town and wanted to move as far away as possible; it took me years to admit I have ties here.
Our town isn't so bad. It's very quaint. A town I used to laugh at (husband still does) we now frequent many of the small businesses and restaurants