Creating a Home

Hello from my morning group breakfast meet up.

As per usual, I am at BK waiting on the group (not necessarily the waiting,but being here) to assemble where we create or solve local and world problems (you have probably observed these groups of older males sitting around having their morning coffee). This group has evolved both in location and in attendees. It is not uncommon to get a rundown of the scheduled appointments, the honey-do lists, and their unadulterated opinions about our crazy world (or town). What I appreciate is the walking history books I have access to daily. I have learned so much about the changes that have occurred in the place I have called home for the last 15 years. The majority of them are veterans, more in the weeds of Southeast Asia than I was. The majority of them went to high school here, and they have spent their lives, raised their families, and offer a thoughtful perspective (albeit opinionated – and understandably so) on the on our little town (and it is officially called a town and not a borough like most municipalities here in Pennsylvania). After 15 years here, I have been here longer than any other place in the 51 years since graduation from high school.

The size of Bloomsburg is not substantial (12,730 as of 2022, and that was a decrease), but it is quaint, clean, and a bit of a two-horse town, with the majority of people employed by the university or Geisinger Medical Center. This was not always the case in terms of employment; there are remnants of the once thriving carpet industry that was central to the town’s economy. Magee Carpeting began in the late 1800s, and the plant moved to the Bloomsburg area in the early 20th century, known as “the mill of two-thousand dinner pails.” Additional carpet mills and factories would spin off, and there are still two or three carpeting mills in town even now. In Berwick, a few miles away, the Stuart Tank Factory built over 15,000 tanks during World War II. Some of the incredible group of men I see daily had relatives who worked, or they themselves worked in these establishments. The trait that comes through again and again is dependability and hard work. Additionally, there is a genuine care for each other that the daily comments exhibiting the availability for the other demonstrate a willingness to do whatever is needed at whatever time. Each morning coffee has already been purchased by someone for the others, and often they intentionally come early to buy before the others arrive. There is a camaraderie and care that makes the group both cohesive and yet a place where individual people are valued. As noted at other times, I am probably the only Democrat at the table, and there are times I feel a bit attacked; however, I do not feel fragile nor unwelcome. I can, however, always be sure that when something of significance happens politically, I will be on the minority-side of that conversation. I have learned how to couch my statements, even when they are obviously true (at least to me) in a manner as not to offend the majority. This is something I do try to do regularly.

What I find so significant about this thoughtful, opinionated, but also generally common-folk, and I mean that in a complimentary way, is they illustrate what is typical in many of the small towns and hamlets across our amazing country. The reality that people return home, even after a stint away, epitomizes that happens here every day. What I have observed is even after a member of the group has passed on, that individual is not forgotten. Certainly, they are not mentioned daily, but their presence, and what they shared in times gone by is part of the collective identity of the group. There is something gratifying about that. What is both intriguing and enjoyable is how the daily interaction is sometimes predictable and always surprising. I learn some new handy fact or tidbit most everyday about the history of Bloomsburg. Of course, their colorful commentary adds much to what might otherwise seem mundane. Much like any little town, progress is met with a sense of concern and sometimes disdain.

All of this is its own sociological study of our humanity. Progress is always something that offers possibility and opportunity, but it simultaneously creates consternation because of the unfamiliarity it breeds. I find the need for predictability more significant, more desirable as I become older. And yet, I have always been compelled by curiosity to try something new, to explore the possibilities. As I rapidly approach the official date of retirement, the fruition of three years of pondering the other side of employment is taking shape. Sitting in Bloomsburg after leaving the university was not something I have ever anticipated. I think that became clear to me when I made the decision to sell “The Acre” a little more than two years ago. From time to time, I worked on an article, never completing it, exploring the rhetoric of place, pondering what gives someone a sense of place. I find myself examining that concept once again. Is it longevity? Familiarity? Experience? I think it is a combination of things. However, I think it is really what allows one to feel they belong in a place. I have pondered this from time to time, and I am quite sure that my ability to move, to pick up and reorient, it the consequence of being adopted when I was almost 5. Even now, in spite of my propensity for having nice things, I am not overly attached to stuff. As I am downsizing, some people have inquired as to whether or not I am feeling sad as things go out the door. I can say I am not, and in fact it is quite the opposite. If friends or others find joy in having the things I have removed, that makes me happy. Certainly, there are things I will miss, but do I need them moving forward? Probably not. Are there things I will miss, things I will remember with some degree of appreciation. Of course, but the focus now is on utility. What do I need to manage my downsized existence? What should I pack into my limited storage so I don’t have to buy it again? There are items of familial importance that will be passed on to nephews and nieces. There are some things that are important benchmarks in my life I will also offer them. There have been points in my life where I have held on to things believing they had importance, they had a value or were needed, only to discard them later. We are materialistic people for sure. Thinking back to my childhood, what I realize is I always had what I needed. Understanding the difference between needs and wants is important, not only because of the expense or space, but because I think it helps us understand the value of things.

This returns me to this little town of Bloomsburg. Currently, there are some changes in the town from the direction of streets to walking paths, from what happens on a Friday night once a month to how the university has actually undergone an integration and a name change. Change is frightening; it can be uncomfortable. There is a consistency in the group of men I met with most mornings. The are the conduit from a Bloomsburg I never knew, but I have gone to appreciate. They are the eyes, the reality of a town that was an industrial hub of a particular industry. Each day through their conversations, their reminiscing I am transported back to the generations before them. What I know is their insight, their value to this town is much greater than many realize. As I join them as one of the retired people who find their way into some local establishment for their morning coffee and whatever sweet is brought in, I realize how blessed I have been to learn from them. Indeed, our politics will never align on one level, and yet, their love of country cannot be denied. The picture at the top of the page is a good portion of them on any given morning. The picture is used with their permission. While my job and colleagues at the university, the students in my classrooms (either in person or online) were what took up the majority of my time, the ability to learn from these incredible group of men (and it has been pretty much that) has been an unexpected and important part of me really creating a home here in Bloomsburg. They welcomed me and made me feel at home. Charlie (both of you), Ray, John (both of you) Bill, Vince, Jim, Todd, Terry, Slick (as he is called), Steve, Jerry, Dick, and if I have left out a name, I will have to add it: from the bottom of my heart: thank you. This version of Garth Brooks “The Dance” includes scenes from the movie Pearl Harbor. It seems appropriate as most of the group are veterans, albeit Vietnam, and additionally they allowed me to join their morning dance at BK.

Thanks as always for reading.

Dr. Martin