No Place Like Home...My Home, That Is.

David Guterson describes a large suburban neighborhood that is restricted by certain limitations placed on it by a corporate enitity in his essay "No Place Like Home." His description is completely different from my experiences with my neighborhood. I live in a sub-division called Highland Heights located in Clinton, which is considered by some as a suburb of Knoxville. We still have businesses and grocery stores and we are a pretty tight knit little town. Yet at the same time we are still this satellite of metro Knoxville. There are no restrictions concerning the appearance of your home unlike those of Green Valley, Nevada. "The color of its homes are muted in the Southwest manner; beiges, tans, dun browns, burnt reds, olive grays, rusts, and cinnamons." There are no gates protecting the world from our inhabitants and there are no prude security guards to prod in our business. Yet Guterson alludes to the prestige of such a community when he descibes the instance where weather seems to challenge a brisk workout. "The club's lavish swimming pools and air-conditioned tennis courts are, I was told, especially popular in the summer, when Green Valley temperatures can reach 115 degrees and when whole caravans of Porsches and BMWs make their way toward its shimmering parking lot." Living in such a commuty is just another way for people to assert their socioe-conomic status. But when asked why someone would live there, residents stammer and struggle to find a somewhat truthful answer without revealing their true motive for residing in such a place.

My Home

I can recall several destinct memories when I think of my home. I can remember the blizzard of 1993 when we received the most amount of snow in my lifetime so far- 13 inches. The snow made navigating the yard a bit difficult for my 2 1/2 foot frame. And my father who shoveled our driveway, only to watch the snowplow pile up the street's accumulated snow directly behind our vehicles. Or when we used to play sandlot football with my friends or some of the neighbors. Trying to retrieve a kicked ball high atop the 40 foot tall cedar tree in our front yard.