Musings on My Relationship With Illinois

Sometime shortly after Dan and I had brazenly moved across the country and set up our newlywed domicile in Portland, I began an intense internal dialogue regarding my love/hate relationship with Illinois, and to be more specific, Washington, Illinois, a small town outside the "big city" of Peoria, where I spent twenty-four years of my life, and where to this day, remains my immediate family and several beloved friends. On the one hand, it's where I grew up and holds myriad memories, including some very difficult times where I forged a connection with my surroundings, my heritage, and my self-identity. It is why I have a tattoo of corn on my arm. And consider family--All of our immediate family has built their nests in Illinois, not far from many of our relatives. Dan's entire kinship (save one genius cousin at Berkeley) splatters the greater Chicago area, and many of my aunts, uncles, and cousins reside in Illinois. We have great relationships with our families and both come from homes with fun traditions and tremendous love and support. On the other hand, we both wanted to get away--try something new, see a new part of the world. Chicago was a little too big, cold, and stinky. Washington was too small, cold, and boring. We found a place that was just the right size, temperature, and consistency. We made good friends, had good jobs, our marriage flourished. But Portland and Illinois are 2,000 miles apart. And we aren't rich. We are lucky to make a visit once a year.

My internal dialogue reached a peak one sunny afternoon as we took a lazy drive through the country up to Mt. Hood. As we passed rolling hills dotted with complacent horses and cows and dense patches of evergreens, I asked myself Why am I not content here? I decided that I would return to my small hometown, regardless of the qualities that made me flee--a lack of culture, vibrancy, diversity, opportunity--because I owed it to Washington. I thought, How can a place change if everyone leaves? I felt a burst of motivation and a combination of sentimentality, creativity, and entrepreneurship. I would return to contribute to the greater Peoria area as an active and progressive consumer, small-business owner, alumni, community member...Combined with an intermittent longing to be "home" for Christmas, spending shopping afternoons with my best friend, or taking Dan to my Aunt and Uncle's cabin at Spring Lake State Park for lazy days of fishing and reading, this newfound direction back to Central Illinois felt gratifyingly sound. I could justify cold winters and small town culture shock if I felt a dramatic sense of duty and fulfillment. Besides, as long as Dan was with me, I'd be happy wherever I was.

However, pros and cons still racked my brain constantly, almost unconsciously. Every time we tried a new restaurant or pub, the taste of gourmet vegan dishes and seasonal craft brews tugged at me. Every time I hopped on the streetcar, picked up a Willamette Weekly, met a friend for cocktails, saw a show at Doug Fir, or discovered a new locally-owned boutique, I relished in the creative bliss of Metropolitan living, and couldn't imagine giving it up! And how much harder to give up such a unique Metropolitan as Portland--small, nestled in Pines, rivers, and mountains, dog-friendly, and home to the Oregon Brewers Festival?

So the battle went back and forth. The last visit I spent in Illinois, last fall, I felt certain we would return to watch our new nephew grow up, spend summers at Apple Canyon with Dan's family, settle down and buy a house--the major bargaining chip the greater Peoria area had to offer--given its incomparable real estate prices. I could picture it: Our very own bungalow with a cozy kitchen, big yard for more dogs, a cute little nursery. I just had to return to Portland to finish schooling, and then we'd be back! Right?

Wrong. Because when I returned, and I returned "home," I was reminded that "home" is not a place where I was born, where I went to school, where I had my first job, or even where my parents are. The day I married Dan, "home" became Dan. My first priority is Dan, not friends, family, or hometowns. And I realized that my inner arguments had conveniently kept Dan's input out of the equation. What did Dan really want? How could I expect my husband to feel the same sentimentality and sense of purpose for a town he never knew and that offered him very little in terms of his needs and passions? I felt guilty and began researching aspects of Washington/Peoria that would appeal to Dan; nursing programs, state parks, real estate costs, organic produce and farmer's markets, friends living nearby.

Not long after, while we celebrated a friend's birthday at an Irish Pub downtown, I let slip plans to move back. Dan remarked firmly his dissent. Tears stung my eyes at his obstinacy, and I refused to talk about it. The rest of the meal was an awkward attempt at not really talking to each other and pretending we weren't having a DOMESTIC DISPUTE. I didn't want the night to end--as soon as we were alone, I would hear the words I didn't want him to say: He doesn't want to move back. Specifically, he doesn't want to move back to Washington. I couldn't be happy there without him, I couldn't be happy anywhere without him. My dreamy, nostalgic, and dutiful bubble burst.

After traveling back to Illinois to meet Logan, see our friends and family, and celebrate special occasions, we've come "home" again, and our path is clear: we will compromise. With both of us on board, we are exploring the possibilities of moving geographically closer to Illinois (as in, we're broke, but we can still go see our family and friends) while considering our central needs:

• Locations for nursing programs (particularly for second degree candidates)
  
• Milder climate than Chicago
  
• Access to outdoor sports and art museums, farmers markets, etc.
  
• Real estate prices lower than Chicago/Portland
  
• Job opportunities in our areas of interest: nursing, landscaping, brewing, writing, publishing, retail
  

I asked Dan, if we moved somewhere new, and someone asked, "Where are you from?" What would you say, Illinois or Oregon? He replied, "I moved here from Portland but I'm originally from Illinois."

Does anyone have any recommendations where we can go from here?