When people ask me where I am from, I don’t know what to tell them. I have often found myself envying those who have lived in one place for all of their lives. I have moved around so much that I feel like I am not from anywhere. Sure, there are places where I feel more at home, but it is hard for me to really identify my roots because it feels like I don’t have any. At least, that’s how it is if I’m looking at where I have lived over the years.
I was born in Washington State and lived in Walla Walla for the first eight years of my life. They were good years, though they had their unpleasant moments. It was in Walla Walla that I learned to feed tomato worms to chickens, something I cannot comprehend that I did. It was in Walla Walla that I got to go and hang out at my dad’s work, an ice cream factory. It was in Walla Walla that I began elementary school, being introduced to the church school setting. Every night, my mom and dad would come to say goodnight and tuck me and my brother into bed. I have not lived there for twenty years, yet I still identify myself with that small town. Maybe this is my attempt to have some roots, something I can cling to as my identity. I am from Walla Walla, home of the onion festival and weekly dust storms.
After my first eight years in Washington, I have not lived in one place for more than five years. We moved to Sturgis, Michigan and I grew to love the countryside and the small one-room school I went to. We practiced the same traditions we had in Washington. Things didn’t change all that much. We had birthday parties, Thanksgiving dinner, Christmas spent opening presents and having a big meal. As I have grown, the birthday parties have diminished, but we always try to celebrate them in some way, by going out to eat, sending a card, giving gifts, or calling each other on the phone.
When we moved to LaGrange, Indiana, I fell in love with rural living. There was so much space to roam around. It was also here that I became better acquainted with the Amish culture, as we had some Amish neighbors. They kept to themselves most of the time, but we had a few interactions with them and it sparked my interest in their lifestyle. After living there, I have never been able to enjoy cities. When I moved to Arkansas after finishing my Bachelor’s degree in Texas, it was the same way. We lived out in the boonies and it was so peaceful. I am an introvert and the privacy and quietude of these places was perfect for me.
Where I have lived has certainly impacted my development as a person, but my family culture impacted me more. It was from my family that I learned how to interact with others. I learned how to celebrate national holidays. I learned how to take care of pets, how to do crafts, and how to do chores such as laundry and dishes. Even more, I learned about the Seventh-day Adventist culture from my family. We went to Sabbath school and church every week, and tried to go to prayer meeting as much as possible. One of my favorite memories is when we had a special candle-lit dinner on Friday evening to welcome the Sabbath. We didn’t do it all the time, but it stuck with me and is a tradition I would love to implement in my adult life. We went to the nursing home to sing to the residents on Sabbath afternoons and we had haystacks every Friday night for a while.
There are different kinds of cultures. If I were to grow up in the Appalachian Mountains, I am sure I would have a strong sense of my culture that came from that place. Because I have moved around so much, however, I don’t have that strong sense of culture from a place. My culture comes from people and a religious organization. At the same time, I am most definitely of the American culture. I have been raised with the American values of independence, directness, and consumerism.
Cultural identity is formed as a person grows and is taught how to live. Parents, teachers, leaders, and social media impart to children values, beliefs, and traditions. As the children take these and make them their own, they become their cultural identity. This does not mean that a person’s cultural identity will remain the same throughout his/her life. I am caught between desiring to have such a strong cultural identity that nothing can break it and being able to allow my cultural identity to expand or change as I grow. It is similar to my envy of those who have lived in one place their whole lives. I envy them, but at the same time I have had the opportunity to live in different places, make many friends, and become adaptable to different climates and settings. Is it better to be rooted in a culture that has been around for a long time, and thus protect values and beliefs and traditions that make you who you are? Or is it better to adapt to change and grow your cultural identity? Change will come no matter what, but I do think it is possible to preserve culture to a certain extent, and in some cases, I believe it is desirable to do so. There are some beautiful cultures in the world, and it would be a tragedy to lose them.
