The good, bad and ugly of moving

With endless cornfields whizzing by on both sides of the highway, my uncle somehow pointed out where he had lost control of his car decades ago, spinning round and round, stopping only inches from the speeding cross-traffic.

What was remarkable was not that he survived the accident (although I'm certainly glad that he did), but that he could recall the exact spot all these years later.

The intersection was burned into his memory because he continued to pass it for years afterward; his family living in the same town his entire life.

In this day and age, families are the move with parents frequently taking on new careers and kids switching schools several times in their academic career. But what does all this moving do to a child by the time they are settled down as an adult?

By the time I reached adulthood (if I'm there at this point is still up for debate), my family had moved just two times and all within 30 miles of each other. Yet, those moves, combined with the location of a large city, meant I didn't have a connection with the same set of people my entire life.

As someone who has a problem remembering what I wore yesterday much less the name of someone I met years ago, I'm amazed when someone remembers a person's name from 40 years ago. But if you stay in the same area your entire childhood, those names become ingrained in your mind.

And that's what happened on that recent family trip. My mother and uncle could still remember the name of the lady who provided eggs for their family during the 1950s. They could still recall when the addition was put on at the movie theater -- and what movie was showing the following week. They could recall the name of their brother's girlfriend (along with location of her home and her parent's names) whom he dated for a few months his senior year. Yet, I can't remember the name of my senior prom date, just that he was tall and agreed to wear the home-made tie.

There is a downside to living in the same place. When you stay in one place all your life, you tend to miss things right before your eyes.

My uncle noted that when he was growing up, tradition was to cruise in another town. After all, it was common knowledge (in their own small town and every small town) that there weren't any good-looking girls in their own town and at least a 15-mile drive was necessary to find anyone of suitable dating potential.

It was only years later at a get-together during a high school friend's funeral that everyone laughed at this concept. In high school, these girls were the same girls they had taken nap-time with during kindergarten, had played dodge-ball with during third-grade and had traded lunches with in ninth grade. My uncle had to admit that the girls from his very own class had grown into nice-looking, funny, friendly women, yet at the time the girls were like, well, sisters.

My husband and I are still debating the merits of living in the place where you grew up.

As someone who spent the first half of my childhood in the big city and then moved in the second half, my memories are not as deep and friends tended to come in and out of my life.

This benefits a person later in life because you have a clean slate. As a child, I was quiet and calm, always listening and always obedient. With no old family friends around to dispute the fact, you'll just have to take my word for it.

On the other hand, my husband has spent nearly his entire life within two miles of his childhood home and he pays for it regularly.

Rarely can he (or I) go anywhere without a story from his childhood being repeated. Of course, if he hadn't led such a colorful childhood, there wouldn't be so many stories to tell. And never are these stories so quickly recalled as when one of our children is a little rowdy or rambunctious.

-- Ronda Graff credits the active, bold personalities of her children to her husband -- since she was a perfect child.