Quote:
Originally Posted by buenos
Hi,
I don't have a family yet, but would like to start one in the near future.
I am a HW design engineer living in the Silicon Valley. As a single person I have relocated several times, I lived in 4 different countries so far. I always rented and was single, so it was easy to relocate.
My dilemma is:
a) should I stay for the rest of my life in the SV where the most job liquidity is in my professional area, and which place seems crowded/noisy and overpriced to me?
b) should I move to a smaller place like Austin/TX or Hillsboro/OR where it would be quieter and more affordable, but which place only has one suitable employer within hundreds or thousands of miles radius?
If I choose b then possibly every 5-10 years I would have to move to another similar place, possibly to another state. Even if I compromise the professional level of my work, there would only be 2-3 suitable jobs instead of 1-2 in a given location. In the SV there are maybe 8-9.
I heard many American families move around the country several times during their lifetimes.
How does it effect the way of life of a family? How does it feel that your home is replaced every 5-10 years and you will never see it again? Young children growing up would have difficulties I would think.
How difficult is it to buy/sell a house every 5-10 years? Any high cost associated with this?
Is it worth it?
What are your experiences with moving around the country with a family?
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Good questions and it's very nice that you're thinking about these things well in advance. I commend you!
I am a former military brat, then spouse, and now the mother of three kids who have chosen life in the military.
Before I was thirteen years old, I had attended 9 schools in 8 years. I had lived in:
New Orleans
Knoxville, TN
San Francisco, CA
Yokohama, Japan
Groveport, Ohio
Norfolk, VA
Newport News, VA
Fayetteville, NC
Phenix City, AL
Columbus, GA
Fortson, GA
Overall, I LOVED the experiences! My parents always made a very conscious effort to make sure we relished every positive of every place we moved. That meant lots of exploring, lots of museums, camping trips, beach trips, B and Bs, trying out new foods, etc etc.
I am not going to lie to you - changing schools can be tough. I honestly think that doing this much moving about fundamentally changed my personality. I am naturally a bookworm and not overly sociable - sort of middle of the road when it comes to extroversion but perfectly content to be by myself for long periods of time, reading or researching things, or working on art projects, etc. But - I remember very clearly realizing at about age 7 that if I didn't "make my mark" when we changed states, or towns, or communities, then no one would ever even remember that I had been there. I would not have friends if I didn't really push myself to make friends.
So I pushed. I forced myself to reach out, connect, get involved, join things, etc. It was a very conscious, deliberate decision and it pushed me out of my comfort zone till I got the hang of it. By about the third or fourth grade I was an expert at entering a new environment filled with strangers, and fitting in, making friends, etc.
Honestly, I'm not bragging, but that takes a lot of inner strength for a child to do, if that child isn't naturally extroverted.
That ability, though initially difficult to embody, became an integral part of my personality and played a huge role in my life as an adult. I became very successful in outside sales, as well as becoming a corporate trainer and a public speaker for a very large international company. When I got tired of the corporate world, I did very well as a realtor, because I can instantly "connect with" and "relate to" a wide variety of types of people.
Now that I'm able to stay home rather than work (due largely to my husband's job, which makes this easy for us financially, but also makes it more desirable for me to be home when he's home since so much of his work takes him out of state), I find that I have reverted back to what I believe is my "truer" personality. I'm a homebody, a reader, back to solitary projects and fewer social dealings. I mean, I'm involved in my community via some volunteer work, but I'm no longer "Front and Center" and never want to be again.
My parents did many things right during my childhood regarding all our moving and the one thing I am especially grateful for is that they did allow my brothers and me to attend only one school during high school. That was terrific. I still enjoy my friendships with several people from high school, even though I moved from that area in my early twenties.
Here is a poem that I wrote about the many moves during my childhood. My mother doesn't like this poem, but when I read it to my dad, he literally started crying and told me that he had never had any idea how us kids felt, because we always seemed so happy and excited about moving. I told him, "I WAS excited about each place we lived, because you and Mom made sure we were always doing something fun and interesting and that made me really appreciate each place. But this IS a part of how I felt - I just didn't know how to tell you at the time."
(No one has permission to copy any part of this poem without my permission, by the way. Thanks.)
Goodbye Me
Foggy rear window,
Cold black vinyl.
I live dangerously, slipping from the bite of the belt.
I rest my small chin on the scratchy surface
And frantically clear the glass.
We begin to move.
“Goodbye, house,†my parents call out cheerfully.
“Goodbye, lake! Goodbye, Newport News!
Goodbye, Virginia!â€
My father bursts into jovial, Bob Hope song:
“Thanks…for the memories…â€
My mother, without a backward glance,
Dons her glasses and opens a magazine.
My starving eyes gobble up the driveway
And feast upon the bricks, the shutters,
The windows…the windows…
The surprised house stares back
Like a mother deserted.
Empty of all.
Empty of me.
Empty me.
My little yellow room will not welcome me again.
My cheeks won’t press against that plush carpet.
No more warm feet down the cool, dark hall.
My hair will not float like seaweed above me
In that deep, shining tub.
The car picks up speed and the road curves.
With centrifugal force, the house is torn from my grasp.
Kerry Lake, Kerry Lake Drive,
5-1-5 Kerry Lake Drive – how I loved the cadence of it.
But now the song tilts off center
And rolls in my heart like a discordant chorus of drums.
No sweet smelling, tanned and tousled comrades
Will turn that corner calling my name ever again.
They are still asleep in their little beds
In their familiar, happy houses,
Fringed eyes shut, blonde lashes traced against freckled cheeks,
Slow breaths from deep within…
I breathe with them, one last time,
And my breath fogs the window.
In a panic, I rub the cold glass.
My mind screams, “I will never be here again! I am gone – I am gone!â€
No parades line the curb.
No flags at half mast in the schoolyard.
No importance to my leaving. I’m just passing through.
We turn onto the highway and my parents chirp together,
“Buckle up, kiddos!â€
The familiar weight of resignation falls upon me.
I turn in the seat and restrain myself.
My brother sighs and we steal a glance at each other,
Then quickly, quickly turn away.
If one of us begins to cry, will we ever be able to stop?
Push it down, close it up, leave it behind, look ahead.
Chin up.
My gaze burns the black vinyl expanse in front of me.
My nostrils flare with each hot, measured breath.
Impotent energy surges through my small body
And fills the confining space.
“Kathryn!†my mother exclaims, turning her regal head
And arching one perfect eyebrow above the sleek glasses,
“Stop kicking the back of this seat!â€
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