Carl D. Hicks

Instructor Kelly Anthony

English 101

10 April 2014

What is a place

What is a place? And where do I want go? Where is it that I’ve been before that I just have to get back to? This for me is hard being I want to go everywhere at all times. The idea of places unseen with these eyes and smelled I haven’t smelled with this nose excites me. If I had to choose just one place with personal meaning to me, the closest thing I can think of to one place to me is “the beach”. There is one beach in particular that has special meaning being it was the most recent memories I have of my father.

I’m from Chicago Illinois, a place where silence is a sound all in its own. Where people and objects seem to buzz by at the speed of life and light. Colors, sounds, smells all intermingled with diversity of skin, culture and gender. Different heights, weight and social classes, some compasses made with morals others with murals. This jungle is dense with concrete structure and the only patches of grass exist in between each sectioned off maze of walk and alley ways. As a Child being raised in the city, the buzz of the constant noise of thousands of people moving at once all in different directions became the normal. Everyday seeing the stuff people report on the news or the theme behind the Sunday night specials via the corner store was life in the big city. The lullabies at night believe it or not were the songs of police sirens and the rhythm of gunshot noises. There was no sleep when it was too quiet outside, just never really happened. These things day after day, year after year you become jaded into thinking this way of life is life. That smog and over population of certain neighborhoods, segregation amongst socialization, and only aspiring to continue on in this fashion was all the norm.

This for me all changed one summer I was set to visit my father in Virginia beach VA Not only do I get to finally spend some real time with my dad, whom I’ve spent time with before, but I spent more time learning of his legend ,but I also get to see what these little eyes have only dreamed of before. I remember the smell of the chicken frying and the popcorn popping in the kitchen. The grease popping as she lightly flours the wings, the white powder hits the air, and about the same time the oil in the other pot is hot enough to drop in the popcorn kernels. I recall the old suit case coming down from the top of the closet, still dusty from the last time it was used. See we were getting ready for a road trip. The idea of driving from Chicago to Va as a child it just seemed so far. We didn’t have a thousand McDonalds and Wendy’s along the route back when, and in our social class you packed lunches and saved money accordingly. The only entertainment I remember having as a child was claiming which car we passed on the highway as ours. The bottles of beer song and annoying all the adults with the” are we there yet” question. As a child that question if posed at the right moment can get a wonderfully aggravated response that leads to muffled chuckles cause you know your sister is going to ask in t-minus 5 minutess. The songs of the seventies blaring out of the tape deck, all foreign to us cause those were moms jams. Songs that made her and my uncle groove as we punched each other for touching or getting too close in the back all while trying to remain quiet and still. Definitely didn’t want that hand that reaches back without looking and just a swinging hitting what and whoever all the while keeping that other hand on the wheel and face forward to drive. Minutes turn to hours and songs turn to sleep, the driving motion and seeing nothing but trees pass in the distance is somewhat hypnotizing to a child and sleep isn’t an option you choose, it chooses you. Awaking only to the oohs and ahhs as we get ready to drive through a tunnel under the ocean. Trying to remain calm while imaging a whale hitting the side of the tunnel of it flooding for some reason the ways I would, as the 9 yr old man of the family, get all my loved ones to safety with my super powers. The coming out on the other side, literally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel was the most magical.

Windows are down , the smell of the salt water hitting or nostrils for the first time, The sun felt like it rested on our shoulders, just beyond our reach it seemed. When all you see it tall buildings and shade, seeing the sun in all its orange and bright glory is amazing. We tried to get used to the humidity and heat all at the same time, it being our first time we didn’t know what to expect, and I’m sure my mom didn’t expect two half naked kids in her back seat either, but you learn to adjust on the fly. All the while the whispers of two little kids began to grow into questions like, what is this place? Did we go to another country? Everything was different from what we knew. There is something more than the city and the places we see on TV are real, very real and my dad lives here.

From that point on, something about putting your feet in the soft but gritty sand, smelling the scent of water heavily salted. The breeze that comes off the water ever so calmly, imagining how many other feet sank in the same spot. Looking into the ocean and as far as you can see is more ocean. Seagulls and other birds of the sea, swaying back and forth in the wind. Wondering what brave soul in history looked at that and thought to himself I will not be bound to this boundary because I know it’s something else out there. It gives me the sense of infinite options and opportunities. Goals and out comes, games and endings and that the world is really round, so there isn’t an edge that you can reach you cant overcome. Almost a metaphor of hope all in itself.

Not knowing at the time we would only have one more summer with my dad, being we got to have the last two together in such a wonderful place made it even more special for me. Makes the thought of this summer special as well, because I get to have that experience with my kids. The car ride, the snacks the songs and the most of all, the memories