What’s in a Home?

Home?

Despite the major news stories of the past few days, I'd like to return to a more minor story that may have slipped through unnoticed. On Saturday, twitter (follow us @journaledmonton) led me to  CTV’s article titled “Fire leaves man with nothing.” I must confess, when I discovered that the man in question was homeless, my first thought was, “leaves man with nothing? Isn’t ‘nothing’ all that he had to begin with?”

But then I realized I was wrong. A shelter built of 50 old tires isn’t nothing. It’s an engineering feat. And the candle lit inside of it (the one that started the fire) isn’t nothing either. It’s light, heat, and a little bit of flickering companionship. CTV’s article says that the man “lost all of his possessions,” and I can’t help wondering what those possessions might have been. A few more spare candles? Some food, saved for a hungry day? A well-read paperback?

What’s in a home?

Is it the things inside that make it? The security of walls, of being able to make everything else “outside”?

There’s the old cliché, home is where the heart is. And most clichés come with an element of truth. But there seems to be a truth in our architecture too – in our obsession with building homes, defining spaces to call our own. Do we need to draw a line in the sand in order to feel that we belong someplace? Do we all need some form of house to call a home, even if it’s a collection of worn tires?

In many ways, CTV’s article read much like any other news report of a house fire. Everything was lost, nobody was injured, adjacent buildings still stand intact.

My grandmother recently told me the story of her daughter’s vacation house burning to the ground. She had been there for the weekend, and when she saw the nearby fire spreading, she phoned her daughter, who was out, to ask what she should save from the house. “Nothing,” was the answer she received. Still, my grandmother took a few family photos off the wall as she left. Later, she found out that there were digital backups, and she needn’t have bothered. But that instinct was there – to save something. Some piece of what we’ve built.

What’s in a home, when it’s burned to the ground? Will that man go back, after the cameras and fire trucks have gone, and sift through the ashes? Will he search for something to save, or will he simply move on, and start building again?