I’ve never been a big fan of either country music or Jon Bon Jovi. But when the longtime rocker made a “crossover” expedition into an unusual genre for him with “Who says You Can’t go Home?” he struck a chord with me. (Pun maybe intended.) Aside from being an upbeat tune , the lyrics deliver a useful message to all of us. Enjoy the linked video or listen to the lyrics as you finish reading this.
As the song narrates, most of us spent much of our earlier years trying to stretch beyond the boundaries of our upbringing. This youthful tendency may be a reflection of admirable ambition. Or, it may be a sign of a lack of clarity about who we were at that stage in life, or what we wanted from it. For most of us, the ensuing years were likely marked by both encouraging accomplishments and debilitating failures or limitations. For better or worse, we are not in the same place that we inhabited at a younger age.
One particular set of lyrics from the country tune stood out for me:
I went as far as I could. I tried to find a new face.
There isn’t one of those lines that I would erase.
I imagine that the Botox people don’t like to hear that, but the insight of the verse resonates nevertheless. As we simultaneously look back on our lives and contemplate our future, where do we go from here? What do we take from those “lines generating” experiences?
The author Thomas Wolfe tells us, “You can’t go home again.” His point, I believe, is that there is no way to replicate past events. When you go home, you are not the same person you once were nor is the town exactly the same as it once was. Past glories, embellished with the patina of time, probably look shinier from a distance than they really were. No matter. Wolfe is correct in his assertion that there is no exact video re-play of our life.
And I don’t think that we want that re-play. A painful look at old class photos from middle school confirms that uncomfortable fact. Still, the past does beckon in some ways. A blending of the positive qualities of our youthful “home” with the character lines earned during our adult travels can position us for a most favorable future.
So what would we like to “go home” to? What in our past would we wish to re-visit, particularly as we anticipate doing so with the acquired lines of wisdom and character we have etched in our faces and thoughts? Is it pursuing a different career passion? Or a lifestyle that we miss? An unfulfilled dream?
I believe that we can all return to our home. Our passion. Our dream. Even better, we can do so with the gained wisdom (either happily or ruefully) of past experience. And the new home will be real, not the fanciful imaginings of callow youth.
Go for it.