Where you're from matters, or not.

I was born in Texas. I grew up there, in McKinney, a small town just north of Dallas. I went to college in Denton, thirty miles from my hometown, and then joined the army. After my discharge, I went back to Denton and got a degree from North Texas State. Then I went to Austin -- the U. of Texas -- to get a graduate degree.

So where am I from?

Technically I'm from McKinney, my hometown, where I learned (not much) about girls and school and family dynamics and how mean or nice we can all be to each other. But I'm also from Denton, where I first went to college, for a couple of years, and where I landed again, after my years in the army and my year in Viet Nam, where I got married to the wrong woman but got high a lot and first found out that girls were at least as smart as me, in many cases smarter.

But when I moved to Austin, with a couple of degrees in hand, it was an epiphany. Here were all those like souls I'd been looking for and only finding in scattered bunches before: here they all were together! And of course Austin is a cool place to live whoever you are. It's got music and the University and the Capitol and the LBJ Library and the Harry Ransom Center and the river that runs through it and . . . you get the picture.

So I told myself that I was from McKinney, my hometown, but I came of age in Denton, then expanded on that in the army -- in Louisiana, Oklahoma, Georgia, and finally Viet Nam. I ended up in Austin, where I found a kind of psychic home. I was maybe 28 at the time. I divorced my first wife and met my current one. We were married on Ground Hog Day in 1978.

So I'm from Austin, right? A true Texan.

And then the damnedest thing happened: I moved to Colorado.

I found myself bedazzled by the mountains and the crisp air and the lack of bugs.

Colorado became the new place I was from. It remains that way to this day. If someone far from home asks me where I'm from, I say, "Colorado." It does occur to me to say, "I was born in Texas", but having been born in Texas becomes more and more like an accident of birth, and you either bond with your birth mother or you don't. I did and I didn't.

I chose the cool stepmother, Colorado, who can't cook as well and isn't as huggy but who keeps herself clean and clear and bright, smelling like new pine and always up for a hike or a bike ride.
Her heights still astonish me, as does her love of snow in winter and flowers in spring. Just when I thought I was getting jaded, she rejuvenated me.

You may have experienced the same kind of transformation/transportation. You were born into a place that suited you or didn't. You made a choice to leave or stay put. You may have been born in Oklahoma, where your family still is, but moved to New York City, where your family feels totally out of place even though you feel at home there. Or you may have wished you'd moved to Chicago, where your heart was leading you, but you stayed home for reasons you can't remember. These are hard decisions, and we often have to make them under pressure. It's a wonder we don't screw them up more than we do.

Where you're from is only important if you still feel connections to that birth place. If you've moved from there --physically/mentally/psychologically/emotionally -- you may actually be a new native of a totally different town/state/country/universe (if you're getting all spiritual). And your family may have a hard time placing you on their mental map. You were born here in Michigan, they might say, but now you're saying you're from Key West? What is Key West? Sounds like a place that you go to when you lost your car key and need another one made. Where is it?

The first big misconnections among families start when the kids leave home and live in places their parents never imagined. Storylines start to divert. Mom and Dad seem, for the first time, old. The world opens up suddenly to one generation just as it's slowly closing on another.

I remember asking a girl I knew in college where she was from, and she said, "I'm from where I am now." We were stoned, of course, so I didn't give her answer much value. But she had a point, in a way. You and I are who we are where we are at any given point, but only if we feel okay there. If we'd rather be somewhere else -- even if we don't know where that is -- it may be time to hit the road and keep exploring. The girl in question was fine where she was. I wasn't.

If you don't love the snow and the melting rivers running cold and pure and the landscapes of yellow aspen trees and the mountains and all that, you may love the beaches and the hot sun.
You may have grown up in one place, one climate, and either love it or can't wait to get the hell out! Where you stay, where you land for good, is where you're "from" in the end.

If I think beyond Colorado, I can imagine myself a soul-resident of Cape Cod. "Soul" because I've never been there, but I think I'd like the way the ocean breaks on those beaches where I don't have to lie near-naked in the hot sun to get the gist. And I know I would love eating lobster.

Whatever we choose, or don't choose, we all have the place we were born and the place we live our lives, with detours along the way -- and maybe even the place we always wanted to live but didn't. Where you're from only matters if where you're from is where you still are. Otherwise, it's just another interesting fact about you.

Don't forget to keep in touch with the relatives, okay?