A Moving Society

A Moving Society

Moving from one place to another has becvome a way of life in America. The time was when families lived in one house or houses clustered in close proximity to each other. There was always someolne to turn to when help was needed. With the advent of the automobile, children left farms by the droves to go where higher-paying jobs could be found. The Ameircan family has been fragmented with children scattered from coast to coast and grandma and grandpa in retirement villages in Arizona and Florida. Has this mobile-living style helped or hindered us as a nation and as a people?

As the wife of a landlord for numerous years, I found myself moving into a different house on the average of once every two years. During our eighteen years of rrarriage, we lived in eleven houses. It wasn't because oif a job transfer or better pay. My husband simply liked houses and wanted to live in all of them. I had moving down to a fine art. Depending on what kind of lead time my husband would give me, I'd start packing two or three months ahead of the actual move. First, it was the non-essentials, then the almost non-essentials, and last it was the bare, basic necessities of life. All were neatly boxed and labeled for easy identification at our destination. The process was always the same regardless of whether we were moving across town or across the street.

It has been estimated that three moves equal a fire. It is no wonder my furniture squeaks and groans when I move it. I can't afford new furniture so I'll just have to listen to the squeaks and groans: reminders of moves gone by. Moving, however, takes more tolls than damaged furniture.

I grew afraid to meet new neighbors or make friends after a move. After all, a parting of the ways would come in a couple of years or so, so why bother? I became a loner during those years because I didn't know anybody close to home and didn't want to know anybody. I never felt secure in my surroundings, but lived with the constant knowledge that one day my husband would come home and tell me he had found a new house, that he was going to rent our's out.

What do young adults do when trouble comes their way and there is no family close by to turn to? Perhaps they are stronger for having to solve their own problems. Perhaps not. And, how do older folks cope with empty homes that once rang with the voices of their young? Who sees if they're all right? Government workers? Friends? Neighbors?

Families have been fragmented. We no longer have the sense of being a part of something important. Close-knit families make for a close-knit America. We may have gained higher paying jobs, but is the cost of human relationships worth it?