Walking back to my place after class the other day, the sky looked eerily similar; reminiscent of another place I had once called home. Malicious rain clouds attacked the Florida sky as if it were payback, or a compensation for the year of sunny weather we had just enjoyed. Hordes of students ran for cover, scurrying into the nearest buildings as if they were violently allergic to the massive amounts rainwater that was being dumped all over campus. I walked all alone in the rain as the Floridians looked at me in disbelief.I had seen this rain before being from New England, a place famous for its unpredictable weather. Floridians don’t realize that I relish these brief moments of bad weather, as It enables me to transcend time and space; traveling back to Rhode Island, when I was eleven playing football in the cold rain with my friends. Be this as it may, I realize I’ve left Newport, Rhode Island in my dust; accepting the fact that the town doesn’t have a much to offer me anymore. So how could I possibly admire a place that I have “turned my back on”? Some may call it being a homebody, an essential prolonging of a relationship that was destined to go sour. I call it more along the lines of a mutual respect. I admire Newport not for what it is today, but for its vital role in molding me into the person that I am today.
In case you are unaware Newport, Rhode Island is America’s very first resort town. The town prides itself on its rich history and its major role in the American Revolution. The cobblestone streets and colonial homes remind tourists of a crucial time in our history, a time when Americans demanded freedom from oppressive English rule. I’ll never forget walking around the downtown streets of Newport, admiring the scenic waterfront district and quaint New England atmosphere that attracts a few million tourists every year to the town. It’s here where one can taste that crispNew England air, an air unspoiled by commercialism and industry, an air that has changed little over the past few centuries.Newport takes advantage of this air through the sport of sailing. In the summertime,Newport harbor is home to thousands of boats and yachts, all ranging in sizes and extravagancy.The town has many things to the average tourist as well. You can take a visit at the International tennis hall of fame or stop off at the Redwood library,
America’s first public library. Whether it’s experiencing its enjoyable nightlife or driving along the Ocean drive to see the extravagant mansions and scenic ocean views; there is much to do in Newport. However, its overly seasonal atmosphere can take its toll on the average resident. To put it into perspective, the population jumps from around thirty thousand residents to about a quarter of a million vacationers in the months of July and August.
Newport is unlike any other place for me because it is home for so many of my memories.I remember our little house near the beach, that house I called home for eight years. I drive past this house, and the memories and emotions flash before my eyes. Maybe someday there will be one of those “Bryan Abernathy slept here” plaques, and maybe a future president will even appoint Beach Avenue national landmark; but probably not. It was at this house where I had ups and downs with my parents, built countless snowmen and even where I once got in trouble for throwing an infamous party my sophomore year of high school. Across the road, there’s a private school that I attended until middle school. It was here where I learned how misunderstanding people can be, a place where I struggled with academics and fitting in with the very wealthy children that attended the school. Just down the street, on the corner, is the 7-11 where I would get dollar hot dogs and nachos, and to it’s left, the neighborhood video store. If you kept going straight you would reach downtown’s main road,Thames street/ I have held summer jobs, met friends and even bled all on this road. It is here where I remember enjoying countless St. Patrick’s Day parades, shopping with family from out of town and even partying with people during the summers, as I got older. It is on this street where I have some of my first memories, remembering being pushed in a stroller and as a young child and throwing pebbles into the water off one of the many wharfs lined with lobster traps.Proceed down Thames Street and you would reach the beginning of the Ocean drive and the place where I went to high school. It was here where I tried to fit in and the place where I learned the true value of friendship. As we come up around the corner, we begin to pass Fort Adams, the place where I popped my friends “snow tube”, slamming my face onto the frozen ground. I continue down the drive, passing past the rocks that we used to jump off into the freezing North Atlantic Ocean. We then pass the mansions and the cliff walks; places where I have both visited as a young child and drank profusely as a rebellious teenager. I can even spread my memories over to the next town, Middletown, a town so shamefully littered with strip malls. I remember going to the Wendy’s on west main road and eating off the dollar menu. I’ve eaten so many junior bacon cheeseburgers there that I should have gotten some type of preferred customer badge.
I thought about it over and over, tussling with thought of where is my true home. The fact is I live in Florida now, not in Rhode Island. I must come to terms with this transition while at the same time, give my respect to the place that has made me the person that I am today. A good friend of mine once told me “your home is where you do the most growing as a person”. For better or worse, I believe my most growing occurred in Newport, Rhode Island, the place where I learned much about who I was as an individual and also the person I hoped to discover. As it stands today, I try to go back toNewport every summer, and you know what, I wouldn’t have it any other way. As I continued to walk through the Florida rain, the sun began to peer out of the clouds; as if Mother Nature herself was saying, “for now Bryan, this is your home”. Wherever I end up, I will never forget the places I’m from and that town in
Rhode Island that I love so much.
Posted in Self.
