Although I grew up and went to school in one Mass town, we moved around a lot when we got married, mostly in the NY City area, Pa, NY, NJ, Conn and then Mass again. We made a decision to retire to rural Maine and have not regretted one moment of it. We have good friends, many of whom retired from suburban places, much to do, not far from Portland or Boston. It is quiet, beautiful and we have a very rich life here. It was a risk we took and it has paid off.

We landed in Marin County because Kentfield, a Marin rehabilitation hospital, was the only decent place I could find for my son, Mark, who had been tossed out of the car he was riding in when a drunk driver smashed into it in 1973. Mark sustained a serious traumatic brain injury (TBI), and I’m still taking care of him. Civilian TBI survivors have few services nationwide, so many, like Mark, are home with good ole Mom n Dad, most of whom have had to quit their jobs to meet caregiving responsibilities. I suspect with all of the TBIs coming out of Iraq now, we may get more attention. But that’s a heck of a way to muster up interest in your cause. Mark’s accident happened in San Francisco where we had been living for six years. We moved there from an old Maybeck house in Berkeley where caterpillars turned into butterflies on our kitchen windows. Our San Francisco home was a great old flat in North Beach with doors so solid, you could have three parties going on at the same time with no one getting in anyone’s way. Mark used to insist that the house had been a house of prostitution during the Tong Wars. Who knows? Maybe he was right. The flat was old San Francisco and had a beautiful Tiffany chandelier in the living room with a sumptious view of San Francisco Bay. We watched the fog roll in and Humphrey, the whale, being coaxed back to sea after he got lost somewhere in the Sacramento River. The first ‘gas wars’ were taking place in 1973/74, however, and I couldn’t afford the daily trip to Marin to be with Mark everyday, so I gave up our flat and moved to a small garden apartment in Mill Valley with our cat, Cinnamon. The garden apartment was perfect — secluded and peaceful — a blessing considering the circumstances. The first few years after Mark’s accident were horrible for all of us. I have no idea how any of us got through it, especially Mark. When Mark was finally discharged from Kentfield Rehabilitation Hospital after almost a year, he and his attendant camped out in the garden of my garden apartment until I found a house big enough for all of us. It was in mid-Marin on the creek near the College of Marin, the community college, and I hired nursing students to live in to help. They were all wonderful, full of empathy for Mark which really helped him. We lived there for two years then moved to the apartment building next door where Mark could have his own apartment with a live in attendant, while I went back to work. The apartment owners raised our rent twice in one year which infuriated me. The owners weren’t very weren’t agreeable, in general, so I riled up the rest of the tenants to complain. Mark and I got evicted (guess complaining wasn’t such a good idea). But it turned out well! I counted up our pennies and went looking for a house to buy. I had never owned a home before and I was terrified. I found an old, summer cottage fixer upper in Fairfax, one of Marin’s smallest communities — 7,000 people. The house had been built in 1915 and was in a rather uncared for state. BUT, it had a small apartment downstairs that could serve as Mark’s quarters and I could have the upstairs all to myself. I bought it! We’ve been on Acacia Road now for 27 years come May 1st. It’s a great house with wonderfull neighbors. Acacia is a dead end street that forms almost a cul de sac with fourteen houses creating our neighborhood. Ages go from 5 to 85. I definately feel like I belong on Acacia Road. And, much to my surprize, I have been able to do quite a bit of ‘fixing’ over the years. Fairfax has also been a great place for Mark. We spent two months teaching him to walk from our house to the 7-11 Store, four long blocks away, when we moved in, and he still makes that trip about four times a day for coffee. People in town have gotten to know him as he walked around and the Fairfax Police (the police station is across from the 7-11 Store) have been wonderfully helpful over the years helping me keep track of Mark. If he didn’t come home from the 7-11 in a reasonable period of time, I could always call the police and ask, “if they had seen him?”. Except for the way too many times he put the wrong foot in front of the other and got lost during the first twenty years, they usually knew where he was. If he was lost, they helped me find him. Fairfax has been a kind of safely net for us. Fairfax has always been a renegade town with, for example, bootleggers flourishing during Prohibitation. Hollywood folks would come for weeks at a time and stay in the many summer cottages plopped around the hills of Fairfax to party. Now those summer cottages are year-round homes for folks, like Mark and me. Fairfax was a Hippie mecca in the ’60s and we still have a few old Hippies living here. One of them has a great leather shop where he makes exquisite leather clothing by hand. Expensive but beautiful. Fairfax is sort of betwixt and between right now, with more and more young families moving in. We have one of the best ice cream stores, The Scoop, in the world. Just don’t go there right after school is out — it’s crowded with piles of noisy children! Marin is a small county of only 240,000 people, fit in between the Golden Gate Bridge and the hills of Sonoma, so in many ways we’re unique because our geography contains us. Marin is special for a number of reasons: first, it’s absolutely beautiful! Mark and I have a Redwood Grove for a back yard. Second, it’s a place of interesting and creative people, people who can and do make things happen. Marin is thirteen independent towns, each with a strong sense of community. I was moved around a lot when I was small so I appreciate this sense of community, strong in all of the thirteen distinct and independent towns. All of us care deeply about the shape our towns take — how we grow or don’t grow. Each and every one of us would be out putting our bodies on the line if we thought our communities were threatened with “the wrong direction” — and we do. So, I guess I love living in Marin. I love our little rinky dink summer cottage and there is no better neighborhood anywhere than Acacia Road. I don’t expect to live here forever. I have to settle Mark someplace safe soon. Neither of us is getting any younger. At some point I ‘think” I’d like to move further north to be near my daughter and her family. But for now, Marin and it’s people are pretty special and I’m pleased to be one of them.

I live in Upstate New York, been here all my life. I’ve traveled a lot, london, new orleans, british virgin islands, florida always (family is down there), aruba, canada, stops all up and down east coast to different cities and I lived in Houston. I live in Upstate New York and I am rooted here because I grew up here, my family is here (until about 4 yrs ago), my husband’s family is here and now I’m raising a child here. It is beautiful here at times, my favorite season is the fall. Winter is great in the beginning, but as I get older I tolerate it less. I get out a lot in the winter because my son is a hockey player, we travel on weekends and watch hockey games. It is a great time and makes the winter go by quicker. I love the Adirondacks, my favorite place on earth. We go there every year for a week. We are visiting Vegas this year, for a family members birthday. I’m real excited to see it and eat good, party all night and gamble. Something my husband and I haven’t done in a long time. I really wish I could get to the Grand Canyon, I’ve had dreams of that place. I will try hard to get there while in Vegas, but it may be to expensive and not enough time. Something to look forward to in the future along with my dream trip to Italy.

My home is in a rural area outside of a small town. There’s wildlife all around and I have property where I’m not within hearing distance of the neighbors unless they’re shouting, which is rare. I came from a large city that was open 24 hours a day and where I lived for more than 40+ years. I do miss the big city but I like my life here and am content.

i lived around boston for 25 yrs. 2 years in se va. moved for new husband’s new job opp, it’s ok, but i’m a lefty liberal in military zone. i miss a lot about new england and boston. i know, i’m crazy for missing harsh winters, etc, but i love snow. i miss culture, architecture, sense of history instead of sea of big box stores, i miss winding hilly roads, quirky cafes and galleries, easy vegetarian ordering and intelligent conversations with old friends face to face, autumn, transitory short spring in explosions of color. livable summers and a fireplace you want to light in winter. i miss crisp breezes, warm sweaters and apple picking. i miss harvard square, no matter how homogenized it’s getting, and roads that don’t make sense, but i know like the back of my hand. i miss the mfa, the public garden and the smell of middle eastern street cart food. i miss indian food, various regions, thai, a slice in the north end. i miss gray days that seem to go on forever then a sudden burst of blue sky bright day that makes you feel alive. sunny days are verboten here, easy to take for granted and the bad weather is terrible like our recent storm -4.28.08 -that tore a neighboring town apart. i miss a good harmless blizzard, batten down the hatches and all. i’ll be alright though. starting to appreciate little things down here.

i live where i do currently simply because i am working on getting some financial things in order. once i do that, who knows where i will be. i have lived in chicago, new york city, atlanta, houston and i love just getting up and going but i am currently a bit hesitant because my kid is entering high school and she wants a “traditional” experience. she wants to spend it all in one place, whereas my ideal is to live somewhere new every couple of years, i will just have to wait until she has left the friendly confines and gone off to college..

I live in Kansas. I have always lived in Kansas. I am relatively certain I will die in Kansas. I enjoy traveling but I have never found anyplace else I want to live. If my grandchildren did not live so close, I am sure I would enjoy visiting them in other states or countries but I really do not want to move. My husband and I currently live in an old victorian home that has been a real money pit. However, we love it. We enjoy Kansas University sports. We go to local plays(college) and small dinner theaters in Kansas City. We love the sunsets and marvel at Gods wonders. Most people do not travel to but through Kansas. It is not for someone who loves the City life as there is very little of that. Most of my family and friends live within driving distance. It’s a simple life and that is what I want.

We have lived in France now for 7 months. It was REALLY hard for me to leave my family, friends and colleagues. Having moved around a lot since I was nineteen I had hoped with all my heart that the house we had built after we married would remain our home for the rest of our lives. I loved every brick and tile, every blade of grass and every rose in the beautiful, rambly garden. But my husband was unhappy and so to find happiness we moved away. I am trying to put down new roots and given time it might happen. I think people are like plants. Some tolerate, and even enjoy transplantation, pushing up new growth faster than ever before. Others droop and wilt and need lots of time and feeding before they thrive. Guess which one I am!

I grew up in Indianapolis, but when I was 14 we moved to Southern California where I went to school, got married and raised kids. In 2004, my husband and I left our kids (now young adults) and moved to Iowa farm country. I tell people here that I had 40 years of sunshine, and that’s all I need for a lifetime. It’s an overstatement of course, but coming back to the Midwest after so long was indeed like coming “home.” Living here touches me on a deeper level than I can express – there are long forgotten memories of rain storms, autumn colors and burning leaves, snow flurries at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and breathing fresh air for goodness sakes (we came from the San Fernando Valley). The weather here has a personality that factors into your day almost every day – it’s part of life that was missing and now I have it back. So I am enjoying our life here. Cell phones and emails keep us in touch with the kids -the world is smaller than it used to be. The only thing that might draw me to live again in California would be grandchildren. When they come along….we’ll see.

After living in New Haven, Washington, Wilmington, Baltimore and Chicago in a series of early marriage corporte transfers in the ’50s - the kind where your young husband comes home and says “we’re moving to Chicago,” we finally settled. I am twelve miles across the water from Manhattan, near two rivers that flow into the ocean on a piece of land we carved from underbrush over the years. I know I should move because I’m inching into old age now, but I still love to cut the fields and think things through on my tractor. Life is a fine combination of writing movie reviews and working outdoors - deadlines and serenity. The “should move” part of it gives way to love of land, of place. So many of you believe - wonderfully - that people are the essence, but the root I have in this piece of land holds me here. I work at my desk looking out at a field of blooming dogwoods. The ferry to New York takes me from field to city in 45 minutes…yes, my roots are deep.

I don’t want to tell just anyone how wonderful midcoast Maine is, winter, spring, summer or fall. We had rain today so the flowers will be beautiful tomorrow in the sunshine. Spring days are long, with the sun coming up about six and setting after eight now. My apple tree and lilacs are budding outside the guest room window and forsythia and daffodils are showing off. Fall is too pretty and too comfortable to describe. And the snow is beautiful in the winter sun. I’ve lived in LA, NYC, Texas and Missouri, but I love this best.

Born and raised in Chicago…I live across the street from Lake Michigan and wake up every day to the sunrise over the lake. When there is a full moon the light of the moon and it’s reflection off the lake lights up my living room. I can walk everywhere, my commute to work is 5 miles and the neighborhood is one of the best in the city. I am home.

I live where I live because we have to. 6 years ago, I thought my husband and I were moving into our dream house. I was finally going to have my wedding. I gave my gown to a soldier and kept my veil. We might have been able to adopt or foster, his children would occassionally visit, my nieces and nephew would love it we did and we do. In a nice, peaceful neighborhood with children all around, with I’m sure all it’s underground vices. October 4, 2002 — 8:41 a.m. changed all of that. My life parts of what I remembered, knew, people gone. Our neighborhood is still beautiful, I’ve watched our neighbors children and families expand and keep me at a distance because I must seem odd in a neighborhood with no children. Plus nothing scares people like a head injury…let me tell you. To them we seem so out of place. Still it’s funny no matter how large the space a persons moves into, it can get filled up. The accident that morning changed our lives. They’re beautiful daffodils outside this year and huge front pane windows in the living and dining rooms. Real windows so we get a breeze. I call our home The Dexter Haven on the Sac (some of you may recognize that name, if you think— my humor and one of my all time favorites) Unfortunately, due to my husband’s employment we MUST live in the county he works..we’re on the butt end of that county…but we’re in it. It’s a requirment. It’s so peaceful and beautiful. We learn the sound of each car, the time they leave in the a.m., UPS, FED EX, the gatekeepers at the beginning the development. Between 11:35-11:45 p.m. the echo of train whistle blows. There are many nights when I have those screaming nightmares from the crash of my accident and I remember why we can’t move away. People they’re never going to be of my life I’m never going to remember the pieces they could have helped me put together. This house at time reminds me of these past 6 years…… I was a NY turnpike divorcee kid from 9 or so. All the things that are talked about Manhattan I miss so much and crave too. I could get cross town in a heart beat. One of my favorite spots to sit was right across from Radio City, or on a bench down where my brother lived in the Park on the West Side. Certain parts of the world, that are so different than America. There was this shop on San Marco that made the most beautiful dolphins. Still, the smell that makes you happy to kiss Terra Firma when you get home. It was 10 years before I could find a good knish and a “real hot pastrami” and “egg-cream”. and KRUGEL…..No, I’m Anglican..Just a typical NY gal. It’s hard and funny at times where we end up. How we get there..I could never leave without my husband, he loves his job, and I love him. Yet, make no bones….cruel and unusual punishment have teared my eyes — October 4 arranged the question Elizabeth asks. At night, I curl up place my head on his shoulder, kiss goodnight. Tomorrow starts all over again. The most important thing is that I know that it could be worse, I’m warm in the winter, cool in the summer. There were times in my life when I had no guarantee of either. It’s oddly all relative. Nightmares, lost memories, all all it’s where I am. P.S. I forgot the occassional” TURN OVER YOU”RE SNORING!” I would like to thank Elizabeth for the suggestion. Sometimes gettting it to the fingers helps to settle the peace.