Having moved from place to place so many times in my life means there is no particular geography that grounds me, no physical location where my people are.
Returning to Albuquerque for a visit evokes memories specific to this place, tightly associated with the short time I lived here and the other times I’ve visited. The quality of the air, the dry heat, the spectacular Sandia mountain range and mellow (by comparison) but distinctive volcano range known as the Three Sisters outline this region of high desert. The lush vein of greenery lining the path of the Rio Grande through the city evokes a surge of joy: so much life!
I moved here for work (installing cable television), mom moved with me. Less than half-a year later my company lost its contract and I began my years on the road. While here I did some organizing for the National Lesbian Conference (which had its fair share of controversy!), was initiated into the ranks of hot air balloonists (one spectacular ride), and basked in the arid, rough landscape. None of the connections I made with local people have persisted, but I recall them fondly. Laurene and I gave a keynote presentation here at a NAME conference, which is a definite highlight of my academic/activist life.
The specificity of event, time, and location (a convergence of spacetime) strikes me in contrast to that of many of my friends who return to the same place where they and their families have always lived. What memories are elicited, by which selection processes when so much has happened within a circumscribed area? While I often bemoan the lack of such a home, it occurs to me that the ability to disperse my own memories over a temporality linked with movement might be a benefit.

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