Ralph's Story, 2025

Ralph reflects on how his understanding of “home” evolved from a physical house to something much deeper and more expansive. While his house feels like home through safety, creativity, and memories, he realize that home is also found in meaningful human connections, whether on a subway, in a restaurant abroad, or within a close-knit community. Through these experiences, he came to see home as something he carry within himself, shaped by relationships, kindness, and shared moments. Ultimately, home is not a single place, but a feeling rooted in connection and belonging.

My first incarnation was to think about a house as a home. But then I realized that was only a small part of what home might be. So then I had to ask myself: what turns a house into a home?

First thing I thought of was the obvious: where I feel safe from the elements, safe from physical harm, safe to express who I am, and safe to love and be loved. My house is my home, but why is it? I feel I have several hundred, if not thousands, of homes. Well, the house I live in, well, I'm an artist, oil painter, to be exact, with the studio in the house, where I struggle to express thoughts in paint and charcoal.

That's the one thing that makes the house my home. It's also where I play, cooking, gardening, even cleaning. But those are the tangible elements. But what keeps me here, hopefully till I die, are all the memories:the good, the bad, the ugly. So this place isn't just a home, it's me.

I feel at home on the New York City subways, which I don't know how many people can say that. But why do I say I feel at home there? Well, it's the people. My wife and I ride the subways all over the city. When we get on, it's usually pretty much standing room only. And that's when the magic happens. Someone will notice Mary Ann standing. Then they get up, indicate she should take their seat. They smile, she smiles. And that's if I can, I come over to them and thank them and mention that they're making it hard for me by setting such good examples. You know, at which point, they usually look me up and down and laugh, cause they know I'm right. It's strange because I was thinking about all the places I feel at home and really feel comfortable in strange ways. And there are an awful lot.

We had been to Florence several times. Once we went to visit our daughter while she was studying Italian. We went to take her out to dinner to what turned out to be a very popular restaurant with the line going halfway down the block. Despite this, we decided to cross the street and just take a peek inside. We got halfway across the street when the individual taking reservations spotted us, more accurately, my daughter. He meets us in the middle of the street and announces to the waiting patrons, “For you, I have a table now.” We were ushered in and given the table overlooking the entire dining room; we never looked back at the waiting line.

Then there's a small village in San Odell where I was taught the true meaning of family. I just live with what they taught me. That's all I can say because I'd have to go on for hours.

Two or three days ago, I'm coming back from a walk and about to go down my driveway when I hear two of the children on the block yelling my name. Realizing it's a race between brother and sister, I hold out my arms to indicate the finishing line. The little brother won, big sister is a gem. Little brother leaves drawings in our mailbox and closes the lids on our garbage cans. They are so special. And if it's not obvious, the street is also my home

So, Summer, as you may have guessed, you are now part of my home since it seems I actually carry my home around in my head. And I closed with, “Home is where the heart is. Who knew it was in my head all these years?”