Over the years, the question has arisen in me (and I’m sure in very many others) as to why I don’t return to Amsterdam, my hometown, the “little city with a big heart” that I love, nestled on the southern edge of the Adirondacks, which were my backyard for nearly 20 years. I know what took me away. And, that didn’t have anything to do with my hometown, at all.
Moving to Massachusetts was about a job. And, though the initial job didn’t last all that long, being “only” 3 hours away from Amsterdam wasn’t really like leaving. At least, I didn’t consider that I had left Amsterdam, until I moved to Colorado. On the event of this long distance move, my Father (a man not known for hugging his kids and saying what was in his heart) wrote a very heartfelt, yet brief letter to me, expressing how he felt about not being able to see me, whenever he wanted. Though he never came to visit me, in MA, he knew he could. I, in turn, have to echo his same sentiments in my move, from the other direction. That being my not being able to jump in my car and go home, whenever it struck me.
Moving to Colorado was an adventure. Yes, I had a job lined up. Yet, I never really intended on staying there. During my first winter there, I expressed that I would “most likely stay through a second winter, and then return”. Well, along came the news that I was to have a son, and I knew I had to stay in Colorado. Still, I went home whenever I could. At times, I traveled to Amsterdam twice a year. At one point, I went an entire 4 years without setting foot in my hometown. That was not all right. Anymore, I make the visit at least yearly, if for no other reason than to spend time with Mom. Visiting with friends, siblings, and other relatives is a bonus.
As my 2 sons reached the ages of 9 and 11, I again turned my thoughts to going back to Amsterdam. I still felt that I would most likely not stay in Colorado. At that point, I felt that once my boys were out of high school, I could go wherever I wanted and that would be either the Pacific Northwest, or back to the Northeast. Two years later, along came Jason, my 3rd son and that meant staying in Colorado for another 12 years. Still, the intent of one day heading back to Amsterdam was alive.
I never pictured myself as heading further south. It was never a consideration. Yet, 2 years before my youngest son graduated high school, I moved to southwestern New Mexico. After 3 years there, and on the event of my eldest son, Graham, being diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, I moved to Oregon. This time, the intent was to be near my son, while he went through the trauma of chemotherapy. And, here I am.
So, what has kept me from returning to Amsterdam? Initially, a job, followed by an adventure, which ultimately included 3 sons. Yet, I can’t help wonder why I didn’t more vehemently set my sites on one day returning to Amsterdam. My youth there was (outside the normal traumas and dramas that come with growing up as the fourth son in a family of 8 boys and 1 girl) something I remember fondly, more than fondly. I’ve already spoken of what it was like growing up in Amsterdam. So, what else might be an element in my continued “on the fence” state of mind, when it comes to the consideration of one day moving back to Amsterdam.
Without laying any blame on anyone else, I have to say that the albatross of a “shopping mall”, lying in the wake of a well cherished, yet used to be downtown surely makes me wince every time I happen by it. And, I can’t help but wonder if it doesn’t serve as somewhat of a deterrent to other people on such a proverbial fence as me, or even for other people considering moving to, or shopping in the City of Amsterdam. If this bad idea of the 70’s is so distasteful for me, I have to wonder what it does for other people. Add to this the gradual closing of the industries of yore and the existing homes that are now closed and/or in severe disrepair, the major buildings that have been removed, I realize there is a pain in me, when I cast a distant eye over my once thriving hometown, with so many wonderful memories of neighborhoods and childhood events. This pain isn’t of “look what happened” to my hometown. Rather, it is what can I do to once again be a part of this community and help in it’s recovery and return to a community that draws people into itself.
So, where does this all leave me? Wondering. Wondering, did I wait too long and am I destined not to return to live in Amsterdam? Wondering, what will it take to get myself established enough, in my present location, that I can frequently visit Amsterdam and even stay longer than a week or so, at a time. Wondering, do I need to establish myself, where I am at, well enough to one day retire to the town of my birth. I can’t help it. I may have long ago left Amsterdam. Yet, Amsterdam never left me.
Peter J Quandt