Longing For Home

 If you have followed me over the past year, you understand that my life has been a bit upended.  We had to make a sudden move from the more comfortable atmosphere of Hagerstown to the chaos of Baltimore, and it has honestly been an adjustment to get used to.  I have lived in cities before, and generally felt the same way - I felt like this when we lived in St. Petersburg, FL, years ago too.  Baltimore is a MUCH bigger city than St. Pete was though, and although some demographics are similar, it is also been like living in a foreign country for me too.   When I feel like this, it also leads to some burnout at work, and I get to the point that certain things about my daily routine are dreadful to me.   Do you remember the cult classic movie Office Space that came out about 27 years ago?  The protagonist in that movie, a mid-career young Gen-X professional named Peter Gibbons, felt a similar way.  Whether it was the congested traffic he faced on the way to work, or hearing the condescending tone of his micromanaging boss, Lumbergh, say "Hey Peter, whaattss happening?" before being assaulted with a barrage of corporate head games, Peter felt a little discontented.  I think we all feel like that at some point, but living in a city intensifies it drastically.  It is not as if city living is completely bad - I mean, after all, I actually was able to experience my first Georgian restaurant in Baltimore.  But, you deal with a lot of things that get on your last nerve - congested city streets, porch pirates stealing your deliveries, the occasional crackhead who has no business operating a vehicle driving one into the foundation of your house, etc.  Then, when teaching at a high school - even though it is a Catholic high school - where the overwhelming majority of the student body are from low-income minority families and there are special sets of circumstances dealing with kids like that, it can drain one both physically and mentally.  As of late, I have actually been missing small-town life, and to be honest, despite some struggles I loved living in Hagerstown.  I felt comfortable there, and to be honest had things worked out differently I would have stayed there in all honesty. But, it is what it is, and as Barbara has pointed out to me, God put me here for a reason - there is a reason why I get paid a decent salary and have a stable teaching contract, and also why nothing else has come across my path yet.  But, I also know this is only for a season, as in time I will be released to move on.  I am currently looking into teaching jobs overseas - in the Philippines in particular for a deeply personal reason - and if the right door opens up I am gone. But, until that door opens, I have to make the best of things, and pray God shows me how to do so.  I have been through worse, in all honesty, but it does cause me some discomfort.  Tonight was a good example of that I want to talk about now. 

About an hour ago, two Black ladies who live close by were ringing our doorbell off the hook, and then they proceeded to complain about a gas leak.  Fortunately, I know what to look for with that, and I did the check around the house.  If you have a gas leak threat, there are three things that will indicate it:

1.  A disgusting skunk smell due to a chemical agent called mercaptan they put in the gas lines - smelling that noxious odor is indicative of a leak. 

2. A hissing or other noise from the gas meter and connected lines.  If that happens, that is a serious sign of a leak.

3. Having a CO1 alarm in the house will detect gas fumes, and our landlord was prudent enough to install one just outside the upstairs bathroom here. 

I did the check around all those things, and no indicators were found that we had a leak.  And, for good measure, I also emailed the landlord like a responsible tenant to let him know someone had said something about it just to give him a heads-up.  In all likelihood, there is probably nothing to worry about, and if necessary I will call the gas company myself to confirm it if it should come to that. 

This type of drama is another reason city living is not that appealing to me.  I can handle suburbs, and in all honesty I am at a place to where I can possibly get a mortgage in the next year.  If I can do that, I am out of here in all honesty.   I will talk more about a potential move later, but for now you get the idea. 

Aside from the main discussion, I wanted to also give a small memorial to a dear friend of mine who passed away last week.  Father Charles (Qasha) Klutz (1934-2025) is someone I have known about 37 years now.  Fr. Klutz gave me my introduction to the Assyrian people, as he was an ordained priest in the Assyrian Church although not Assyrian himself.  A well-read and very articulate man, we forged a friendship that has lasted for many, many years.  Up until his retirement in 2008, when he moved back to his native Washington, Fr. Klutz served in parish ministry as well as also being a Chancellor to the Bishop of his Church's Eastern Diocese.  While we had some interesting debates at times, they were always in good spirits and we learned much from each other.  

Rev. Fr. Charles (Qasha) Klutz (1934-2025)

I never had the privilege of meeting Fr. Klutz in person, but when I first reached out to him in mid-1987 to learn more about the Assyrian Church and its people, he was a wealth of information.  We had many phone conversations and we wrote many letters back and forth for several years.  Although we sort of lost touch as I got married, came of age, and life began to assert its demands, I have always considered Fr. Klutz a friend, and I am saddened by his loss on a personal level but also know he did the Lord's work with dedication, so I will one day meet him again in the hereafter.  Rest Eternal, dear Father, and may Light Perpetual shine upon you, amen. 

Fr. Klutz's passing is yet another reminder of how many people I used to know that I have lost, and it also fits into the theme of my reflections today - longing for home.  Fr. Klutz reminds me of an earlier passion and strong calling I believed I had then, to the Assyrians as a people.  Seeking to be a "missionary" to them, they eventually converted me instead, and it was because of knowing them that I ended up eventually becoming Catholic myself.  And, it is one reason why for several years as a Catholic I chose to attend an Aramaic-speaking Maronite parish in Florida over a Roman-rite church.  A lot of that influence is still evident in my own personal spirituality, as I still read St. Isaac of Nineveh and other Assyrian Church Fathers.  A part of me misses that passion I had for the Assyrian people, and I want that back - it is a little more challenging in some aspects now as I lost a substantial library of books on Assyrians and their culture that I once had, and I could kick my own rear for that happening.  The positive though is that there is a treasure trove of Assyrian information online, as this is the 21st century, and many of those books I had before can now actually be downloaded as digital copies.  Once the dust settles on the opening salvo of this new chapter my life is in now, I may begin pursuing some of that again, as it is an important part of my own story now too.  I am actually even thinking of writing more about the Assyrians later, especially my own experiences, and perhaps that can be an inspiration for the future maybe.  We will see. 

It looks like 2025 will be one of my most prolific writing years, as I have a lot of content this year.  However, that is OK, because writing at times is what keeps me focused and sane.  As it seems that my old work of journaling is starting to fade out after almost 30 years, my blogs present a way to channel my own penchant for writing into a more focused lens and I can actually share this with others.  I still journal of course, as journaling is part of who I am and there are some things I would rather keep personal for myself.  But, blogging has also had its rewards too. 

I am expecting Anthony Esolen's book on boyhood in the next day or so, and I will be doing some reflections based on my reading of that.  So, for tonight, I will bid my adieus and will be back again soon.  Thanks for joining me here on the virtual "front porch," and look forward to visiting with you again soon.