But home is also a land of roots and community. Although, just why is it that we need roots and community? The longstanding view of a world in which one is loyal to some divided groups of humanity, variously called your tribes, your country or your trench coat mafia, has not proven to be peaceful or even really effective in terms of global management.
I think that those of us dwelling as artists, hipsters (yes, you know you are), world travelers, whatnot these days, like to think that we construct our own communities. Choose your own community, if you will. Your community status results from the intrinsic qualities of you and what you have thought about, created and contributed, not from your bloodline.
Although when on the road I can easily strike up a conversation with just about anyone, it’s at home in New York City where my community surrounds me. It is my friends who I miss while traveling. It is my friends who I like to help out. I filled in as assistant on Jen Campbell's shoot for Glass Magazine two days ago, for example.
And yesterday, sitting in McCarren Park, Kevin and I ran into his friend Ian. With Ian were two people, one who just moved back to New York from Portland. Later his friend from Portland joined us. Six people, loosely linked sat and talked for hours. The sun drifted behind lengthening shadows and we followed the last of its rays onto the softball field. The girls next to us, also progressively moving into right field, lost the chihuahua they were babysitting. But the softball team had adopted him, so they were saved from a roommate's wrath. They, and the chihuahua, joined our group. Later that night, we went to our friend Brian's apartment and ate too much cheese and drank too much wine with him and more friends. I can't relay to you that any of the conversations were deep and insightful. But besides pleasant, it was important. We were with family.
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