Even though I had a lot of issues with my hometown growing up, I will always have love in my heart for the place that raised me: Hammond, Indiana.
Whenever Indiana is brought up around my friends from Chicago, they make jokes about how flat and boring it is. There is a stigma around Indiana, and a lot of other midwestern states, that there’s nothing to do, nothing to see, and nowhere to go.
They aren’t entirely wrong. I used to go mad in my apartment trying to invent fun, and oftentimes when I left out the door, I saw nothing but tedium in the rows of houses that lined the streets.
I was twelve, and I wanted to explore, find love, get in trouble, all the things I saw kids my age do on TV. But middle school was a dull contrast to the cinema my life aspired to. High school had its highs, but it wasn’t until I was on my way out the door that I finally found value in Hammond.
Though, there’s a lot to the state that people gloss over, or miss completely because it’s already cemented as plain in their minds.
Hammond gave me so many skills that I couldn’t have gained anywhere else. I was able to get a well-rounded education that exposed me to a wide variety of literature, complex mathematical concepts, and all corners of history. I was surrounded by other people with a similar eagerness to learn, whether it was in the traditional sense or through random conversations.
I was also able to take business classes to build my career-readiness, coding classes to give me an understanding of the devices I used every day, and I even took a film studies course my senior year.
Likewise, I went to a performing arts school, where I learned how to play piano and the drums, was taught the foundations of painting and drawing, got experience in technical theater, and was exposed to all kinds of artistic perspectives.
The thing I love most, after the people, is the sky. On school days I would get up early and walk under the shifting hues of dawn. Sometimes the sky would be a deep purple, or a soft red, or a translucent blue. Each shade was worthshade worth the hour of sleep I lost.
Hammond was a tight-knit community too. We threw parades and heldhold concerts in backyards. I’ve watched a dozen plays and gone to loud swim meets.
There’s such an emphasis on community traditions that makes it so easy to meet people back home. I never felt like a stranger back home because there was always something to do, somewhere to belong, and someone to run into.
I am a product of my home, through and through. From my attire to my taste, from my mind to my heart. The people I’ve met at SXU say they can tell I’m out of place, and I’m glad.
It’s written all over me; Hammond is my home. I could never live there, but I’ll always return to it.
As I write this, I’m sitting in the home of my oldest friend, falling asleep to the sound of my own typing. Coming back home has become more important to me recently. When my ego inflates from all my achievements in Chicago, Hammond lets the air out of my head, and helps me see clearly again.
Everything exists in tandem: day and night, water and fire, Chicago and home. At school I am a director, writer, resident assistant, editor, artist, the list goes on and on. But back home, I don’t have to be more than a son, a brother, and a friend.
I always longed for the chaos of a big city, and I’m glad to be learning and growing in Chicago, but wherever I go from here, my heart will always remain in Hammond, Indiana.