This must be the place
It’s when you know you’re home.
Those places and faces, those sights and lights that truly signal the arrival back to your hometown. We all come from somewhere, near and far, and regardless of those miles between back there and where you stand today, there are several things that will always be a testament to your past — the dots that forever connect who you were, who you are, and where you’re going.
On my recent trip back to the North Country (Plattsburgh, New York), it dawned on me how much I circulate through all my beloved spots whenever I do get home, as rare as that is. Those same locations time-and-again you find yourself saying, “I’ve got to swing by there before I head back.”
Following my landing at the nearby airport in Burlington, Vermont, and a quick ferry across Lake Champlain, my parents picked me up as we immediately headed for Clare & Carl’s, home of the “Michigan.” Not a chilidog. Not a sauce dog. It’s a “Michigan” in all its ground beef, onion, mustard and hot sauce majesty. Originating in 1942, my grandmother was the head cook in the old shack for a quarter century, with my father a carhop one summer in 1961.
Once home, I borrowed my mother’s car and headed for Point Au Roche to go for a run. The 856-acre state park sits on the shores of Lake Champlain, its endless dirt trails rolling along the water and back into the deep woods of rural Clinton County. It’s a place I remember running cross-country races in high school, an escape I often sought out while home from college and post-graduation, when the world got a little too loud and I needed to find my soul once again in the solitude of Mother Nature.
As the sun disappears behind the Adirondack Mountains nurturing the Champlain Valley, one soon gets the urge to wander into downtown Plattsburgh, in search of shenanigans and familiar cronies, old and new. Some longtime bars are now gone from my days running around these streets, while other ones have popped up in recent years. Many friends have left the city in an effort to transition into the next step of their lives, only to have a whole new set of youthful exuberance grab a seat at the counter and order their pleasure.
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But, The Monopole still remains, a beacon of culture and chaos that is known as the heartbeat of the city’s nightlife. Established in 1897, it’s been a brothel, a steakhouse, and for several decades now, an epicenter of live music and ales for innumerable locals and townies, not to mention those who spent their college years (SUNY Plattsburgh) bellying up to the enormous wooden bar, sitting and talking about where they’re at in their existence, and what it all means in the grand scheme of things.
It’s the Fourth Ward Club, a 100-year-old neighborhood tavern on Montcalm Avenue — where the same line of rowdy folks are cheering on the Boston Red Sox night-after-night, where my father was served his first beer in 1959, where I also have downed a pint or two over several games of billiards with the old man.
It’s Campus Corner, an old school New York style diner on Bridge Street. Between college graduation and my first reporting gig in Idaho in 2007, I’d sit in there everyday and simply write in my journal, sketching out conversations overheard and characters that came through the door, all while drinking endless cups of coffee and trying to figure out just what it would take to become the writer I desired to be.
It’s the muddy trails behind the SUNY Plattsburgh Fieldhouse, paths winding along the roaring Saranac River, as my body strides along, my mind pondering nothing and everything, only to smile at the completion of another glorious jaunt within the thick forest — of my current location, and of my dreams.
No matter if you’re from Montana or Massachusetts, Washington State or Washington D.C. No matter if you grew up in the bright lights of the big city or your town seemed right out of some John Mellencamp song. What remains are those locations that are held closely in your heart as you push further down the road. It is those physical images and emotional memories that are the anchor of you and relied on when the going gets tough and an uncertain tomorrow stands before you.
Some may think of this ramble as nostalgia. But, it’s far from. You see, nostalgia is when you hold onto memories so tightly because you haven’t been able — or want — to make new ones. For me, these places and faces are the starting point for my journey, just as similar parks, restaurants and bars are for you, too. And it’s how you apply these memories to your impending future that showcases the evolution of your being.
We all have more in common than we think. We want to be loved, and to remember those we love, who may or may not be still in our lives. We also want to make sense of the conscious and subconscious decisions that initially took us away from our hometowns. It was those first homes and families of our youth that will forever define us, come hell or high water.
It is who we are, and why we look forward to returning, however far away in time and space that may be.
Life is beautiful, grasp for it, y’all.
Hot picks
1 The “Groovin’ on the Green” concert series will host The Colby Deitz Band (Americana/bluegrass) at 6:30 p.m. Friday, July 22, at The Village Green in Cashiers.
2 The production of “Jesus Christ Superstar” will hit the stage at 7:30 p.m. July 14-16, 21-23, 28-30 and 2 p.m. July 17, 24 and 31 at the Haywood Arts Regional Theatre in Waynesville.
3 The “Songwriters in the Round” series will continue with Becky Hobbs, Benita Hill and Kacey Jones at 6 p.m. Saturday, July 16, at the Balsam Mountain Inn.
4 Nantahala Brewing Company (Bryson City) will host The Freeway Revival (rock/jam) at 8 p.m. Saturday, July 16.
5 “An Appalachian Evening,” a weekly summer concert series, will return with Mac Arnold & Plate Full O’Blues at 7:30 p.m. Saturday, July 16, at the Stecoah Valley Cultural Arts Center in Robbinsville.
