OVER THE RIVER AND THROUGH THE WOODS

By the time thanksgiving or fall break rolls around, everybody is ready to be home. To sleep in their own bed, to eat home cooked meals, to relax in the comfort of their own couch. I was definitely one of those people counting down the days ‘till I finally landed in LAX.

I soon realized however, that traveling during the winter-ish months from State College is no easy feat. If it weren’t for my partner in Spanish class telling me about the snow storm, I would probably have been stuck in state college for days.

My flight was on Thursday evening, a nice 28 minute flight from State College to Philly, and then a five and a half hour flight from Philly to Los Angeles. (Philly and LA airports are probably the worst ones to ever be built in America, just a little FYI). Well, it turned out that State College was about to be hit by a massive snow storm, the likes of which would most definitely cancel any flights going to or from the rinky dink University Park airport.

I called my mom in a panic and told her about the storm. She displayed two options, one: I could hitch a ride with my friend to philly on Friday and take a five am flight on Saturday morning, or she could rebook me for a flight that was slated to leave two and a half from that current moment. I decided fast: I’d be leaving that Wednesday night before the blizzard hit.

Unfortunately, I had only a 40 minute layover, and my flight from State College was delayed so I had exactly 7 minutes to get from gate to gate, a feat that usually is a thirty minute walk. I was in a panic. I sprinted to and from the bus and made it just as they were closing the gate, utterly winded.

Once I got home I had an amazing break. I saw everyone I wanted to see. I had the best time. I was lucky to have made my connecting flight and to have been able to change my flight so last minute. I thought this whole getting home experience was pretty wild. Never have a run that fast through an airport before. Little did I know that this would be nothing compared to my struggles returning.

Of course I wished I could have stayed home and relaxed longer in the warm southern California weather, but I knew I would be returning soon. And to be honest transitioning from school to home and back again feels much more natural than you might think. So when I got to LAX the Sunday before school started back up again, I was confident that their wouldn’t be any problems. No more snow storm, I was cool as a cucumber.

My flight left ontime and landed early in Philly. I ate chipotle during my three hour layover and caught up on some reading. I boarded the flight to State College ready to knock out in my dorm room after a long day of travel. “30 minutes to State College,” the pilot said even before we took off.

25 minutes into the flight, the pilot comes on the intercom and says, “Hello everyone. Unfortunately, the visibility in State College is very poor right now, so we are going to have to turn and head back to Philadelphia. We apologize for the inconvenience.” Soon after he made a flying U-turn. We were headed back.

50 jaws dropped simultaneously, most of those 50 being Penn State students. Chatter grew throughout the cabin as we learned that the next flight to State College would be going out on Tuesday and it was already fully booked. The flight attendant handed out free beer to those who wanted it.

We were left with only three options, stay the night in a hotel with indefinite plans, take an Uber, or rent a car. By the time we landed in Philly, the entire airport was closed. It was 11 at night, and fifty people were stranded. Soon, groups started forming. I allied with 6 total strangers. All girl students, and we decided to rent a car.

We hiked to the other side of the airport in the cold, suitcases in hand, packed all our stuff up, squished into the rental car, and hit the road. On the way we encountered a sleepy driver and almost got in an accident, and we drove through some crazy fog. We had no idea who the people sitting next to us were, but we trusted one another completely. We had to.

By the time I got back to my dorm it was 4:30 in the morning and I was preparing to wake up at 8:30 for my 9 am. To say I was exhausted after all that is an understatement.

For my first passion blog post I wrote about how everyone asks me why I chose to leave California to come to Penn State. And I mean literally everyone. Stories like these justify their curiosity. I know this wont be my last travel struggle, it is the first of many. But the thing is, I wouldn’t change a thing. We out-of-state students may not have tailgates every weekend, or a family line of Penn State Alumni, but we bleed blue and white just the same. We love it enough to run through airports and travel for over fifteen hours to get back to happy valley. I am where I am supposed to be, even if that means living in the center of Pennsylvania. I love Penn State, and for that, I will sing my love and loyalty to dear old state.

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HOMESICKNESS

And now, I finally talk about something that almost all college freshman deals with in one way or another: homesickness. Oh yes, homesickness may not be an actual mental illness, but we all know people who have abandoned their school because of its grasp on their life.

We are told that geography plays a roll in this phenomenon. To this I have to agree to disagree. Homesickness is not something that comes from missing a place per say, but from missing home. If you don’t establish a little piece of home away from home, no matter where you are homesickness will bite at you like the impending winter here in Pennsylvania.

When I went away to school, everyone told me how valiant I was for going so far away. And when I got to school, everyone told me, “oh, I could never do that.” I have spent a long time wondering, why? Why is everyone so hesitant to go a plane flight away? Why can’t people see themselves going somewhere far away?

It’s true, more than half of Penn State students are from Pennsylvania itself. And I can count on two hands how many kids from my high school who went out of state, and even fewer who went all the way to the east coast. But why? With how much teenagers complain about their home, their school, and their families, you’d think that they would be far more willing to leave, right?

I think that this notion about geography having to do with homesickness plays a roll in this. Every mile away seems like a catalyst for being miserable. But my experience couldn’t contradict this more. For me it mattered more what school I went to, not where I went. Which is why I wound up in the center of Pennsylvania.

I have loved my experience so far. Sure, I miss my parents. But I’m not so far away from them, really. I know I can call them whenever I want. My friends are also just one faceTime away. I think one of the biggest blessings of going far away is that I can’t go home easily. Whatever I have to deal with, it is my job to figure it out if I am able.

I knew I was ready for this. I’m not running away, I’m ensuring that I can’t run away from my problems by going home. By going far away I have made my home even more special, it is something to look forward to. It is a sacred place.

I was ready for the three thousand mile difference, but I certainly know people who weren’t. When I miss home so much it hurts, I just remember that no matter how far away I am, it is still my home. My family is still my family and their love doesn’t diminish with the distance. That’s all that matters to me.

Before my parents left, my Mom told me something I will never forget. She said if I ever get lonely or homesick or sad, I just have to remember that we are looking up are the same moon. No matter how far apart it seems, we are more connected than ever.

Blog: Welcome

Blog: Blog2

tiffanyjgodley
- Sep 5, 2018
- 2 min read

The First Question

When you tell people in Pennsylvania that you’re from California, there is apparently only one logical response that runs through their brains; jaws hit the floor and the words “What are you doing here?” spill from their mouths in both an astounded and troubled way. As if I must be crazy for wanting to leave the 70-degrees-and-sunny coast of our country for the rainy-in-August countryside of Pennsylvania. They almost look as if something might be wrong with me for willingly deserting my Los Angeles Lifestyle.

This experience doesn’t make me feel better about my decision nor does it make me feel welcome in the northeast, and I can’t help but wonder where this critical bewilderedness comes from.

In Los Angeles, we love our home. We love it so much that traffic, poor air quality, and astronomical housing prices don’t steer us away from living on the golden coast. As if we, of all people, are the Israelites of America, living out our manifest destiny. We who have multiculturalism and agriculture. We who have sand and snow. We who have sports and fashion and film and trading and… We have it all, so what’s not to love?

This ideology shapes how we view ourselves and how we view those outside our blue bubble. Texas? Ew. New York? What snobs. Kansas? What even is in Kansas. The audacity to dismiss cultures that differ from our own contradicts the very values we are so proud of, values of acceptance and equality. And as the love and pride of our home transforms into flat out elitism, the rest of the country is left both admiring the sunny beaches and suburbs that the beach boys sing about, while also possessing disdain for the state as a whole. Because nobody likes arrogance, no matter what package it comes in.

This being said, when people ask “Why did you come here?” all I hear is, “If California’s so great why didn’t you just stay there?” Or when they say, “Are you ready for the cold weather?” It’s more like, “this isn’t like where you come from!” And although these statements are genuine, and I have found Pennsylvania people to be far more kind and personable compared to those of the west coast, all these statements do is divide us.

So when someone asks me why I left instead of why I came, when the kid behind me in Spanish whispers “Jesus,” under his breath when I say to the class “I’m from California,” or when someone doesn’t ask me if I miss my family but if I miss my state, I smile, and remember how everyone feels about where I come from. Then I say, “I like it here, don’t you?”

And if you want to save yourself a headache when you have to explain to two-hundred people in specifics why exactly you chose to leave, I suggest you do the same.

OVER THE RIVER AND THROUGH THE WOODS

HOMESICKNESS

The First Question

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