Hometown

Yes, today is Valentine’s Day.

February 14th is, however, also host to the birthday of Arizona’s statehood, the dry and lackluster place where I was born and raised. The complex that I have with my hometown is one that I always struggle to put my finger on. I’m usually met with questioning stares when I begin to vehemently describe how much I “hate” Phoenix. One’s hometown is generally meant to evoke feelings and images of safety, childhood, and comfort. It’s the place where you can always return, where the past remains cocooned no matter how many years pass. I personally had a wonderful childhood, and for me the memories lie in the faces and laughter of my family rather than in an attachment to my desert home.

Now that I have moved away from Phoenix, making a new life in Los Angeles, no sense of nostalgia has come to visit. My issues with Phoenix always involved what I saw as a lack of culture, of which LA has more than made up for. The stifling heat of Phoenix summers that left any leather car seat physically impossible to touch and limited the options of entertainment to a pool or indoor mall, has now been replaced by crisp beach breezes and a boundless array of city to-do lists.

While Arizona’s local wildlife was certainly entertaining, I appreciate the nonchalance of my campus’ squirrels over the looming fear that the snorting javelina in my yard (think warthog without the tusks) might be provoked and start charging blindly in my direction. Even better is the forgotten woes that the soft rattling noise in the garage is yet another rattlesnake that has to be taken care of with a rake before it lays eggs. And don’t even get me started on warnings as a child to check my shoes for hiding scorpions.

So what’s the next goal for this bitter hometown deserter? Convincing the family that California is the new Arizona. I’m halfway there, with my mom’s recent relocation to Northern California, and my dad has already fallen victim to the emails about Southern California listings on the most up-and-coming neighborhoods. While the past is something to cherish, my distaste for the bland environment of my hometown has kept me moving forward into a future that doesn’t involve the necessity of a pool and fear of jumping cacti in my backyard. So here’s my ode to you, Arizona, on the centennial year of your statehood’s birth. Please don’t be too offended. It’s really not you... it’s me.

-Bri