Some of us are wonderful storytellers.
Some on paper. Some at the dinner table. In my family, I think that I have a knack for the former, and my brother, certainly, the latter. He has a wonderful flair for arc, knowing his audience, and I’m sure a dash of embellishment…
Embellishment makes the stories we tell come to life; gives them dynamics. Chopin’s Nocturnes contain some beautiful melodies, but the dynamics, the ornamentals, the dips in tempo unleash their passion. “Take Me Home” is a grandiose embellishment of the journey home or perhaps how the journey is told upon arrival.
The ideas of "the road" and "home" are chock-full of romanticism, because it is impossible to experience them simultaneously.
On the road, much of the time is spent between billboards and gas stations and yellow painted stripes. At home, we read, watch television, unwind and rewind our daily routine. But that isn’t the story we tell to our family and friends and it certainly isn’t the story we tell ourselves.
The road is where we snuck onto a private beach in Key West at four in the morning. Where our sleeping bag was blown away by the wind on the icy tundra in Alaska. Where we ate Rocky Mountain oysters fried right after watching them be “extracted.”
Home is where we eat feasts with our family and friends. Where we cuddle up with blankets and talk around the fireplace.
Where we watch the snow fall outside our window during the winter holidays. Where we grew up. Where we forged our childhood memories, loving and tragic.
These memories and these stories give our life passion and purpose. The brief moments between the general minutia deserve every bit of embellishment that can be reasonably mustered.
"Take Me Home" is an ode to the romanticism of the journey and the romanticism of whatever place we call home.