Withdrawal Symptoms
1. ones place of residence
2. the social unit formed by a family living together
3. a familiar or usual setting < ~ is where the heart is >
4. a place of origin That's what Webster has to say about it. Personally, I'd like to redefine that word. Today I sit typing this column not from the hallowed halls of my dorm, but at my father's desk in the basement of our house in Gainesville. I'm on Fall Break, and like most of the other freshmen who don't hail from East Bumblethwack (or India, or California, or outer space), I have ventured away from the Gothic Wonderland and returned to my hometown. I definitely needed a break, and so did the rest of the students. We were all getting testy and sick of work, especially with midterms looming over our heads. So I thought coming home would be a revitalizing way to see my old friends, sleep in my own bed, and finally take a shower without my Adidas flip-flops protecting me from the dangers of community bathrooms. It's been all that and more, but something is very different. You see, home is no longer my home, in a sense. It isn't the fact that practically everything I own is still tucked away in my little corner of East Campus, otherwise known as 213 G-A. Nor does it bother me to eat "real food" or to drive my "baby," a silver '96 Nissan Altima which happily will be returning to Duke with me. What bugs me is that I miss my Duke friends. When you're with the same people 24-7 and sharing similar experiences with them, it's impossible not to grow close. Right now, I would even be glad to hear my roommate blasting New Edition, annoying as it can be. That messy place and those crazy people comprise my home now. Of course, I'm ecstatic to see my parents, my sister, my brother-in-law, and my sweetest nephew in the world (my only nephew as well!) I've enjoyed riding around Gainesville remembering the fun I've had at different places and wondering what has changed. And I can't wait until tomorrow, when I'll visit my old high school and my old workplace. This town is, after all, my "place of origin" (thanks, Webster.) But the latest fad seems to be detaching oneself from one's place of origin. Look at Dean Smith, the phenomenal UNC men's basketball coach who just stepped down from his position because he didn't have the energy he needed to guide his team through another season. North Carolina was more than home to that man. He and his college defined each other - Dean Smith was UNC, and vice versa. But he, like the rest of us in the Class of 2001, has left home, and things will never be the same. Fortunately, this isn't the end of Smith's career at UNC (unfortunately for us Duke fans, but that's another column!) Rumor has it that he'll stick around and help out in the athletic department, just not in the same capacity as before. I guess that's what I'm doing too. I'm still very much connected to Gainesville and my family, but Duke is also my "place of residence," my "familiar setting," my "social unit formed by a family living together." So which place is home? That's actually quite simple. Home is not necessarily defined by where I live or where I grew up. Each place has a piece of my heart, and like Webster so wisely says, "Home is where the heart is."
