My wife, Jenn, and I, recently sold our home of over twenty years. It was a tough decision because just about everything of meaning happened in that house. It was the place for family gatherings, birthday parties (and Jenn always does those in a big way), and even a few ATRA Christmas parties happened in that house. Jenn graduated college in that house. I created four 1st-place winning BBQ sauces, along with other fair entries, in that house. Our daughter, Taylor, went through most of her schooling, began dating, got married, and then gave us a beautiful grandbaby in that house.
It’s where I left in the wee hours of the morning to head out for ATRA seminars and returned after a fast-paced weekend. Family, work, tears of joy, and sorry all happened in that house, and now we were saying goodbye.
We both struggled with the idea and had finally signed the dotted line with apprehension and sadness. I’m pretty sentimental; heck, I still have my Popeye and Munster’s lunch boxes from the first and second grades, so how in the world would I manage this, I thought to myself.
We gave ourselves about a one-month overlap where we had both the old house and the new one to pack without rushing. Even still, it’s amazing how much “stuff” you collect in twenty years and that month quickly seemed like not enough time.
Once we moved enough, we began to live in the new place. It was still rough going back home to continue boxing things up and pulling pictures off the walls, but then something happened that I didn’t expect. After about the fifth day of living in our new place, it began to feel different going back to the old place. I had driven that route thousands of times, but this time I felt like a stranger or like I was visiting an old friend rather than going home. That’s because it was no longer home; home was about five miles away. Now, it was just a house.
I mentioned it to Jenn, and she said that she felt the same way. We both thought it a bit surreal and unexpected. It occurred to us that “home” wasn’t the structure. It was the people and memories. It was the “stuff” that made it the home.
So what does this have to do with transmissions and the people that make the industry work? Everything! You see, about that same time that I was thinking about our move, I was working on this year’s Expo. It occurred to me that the events that I’ve been to over the years aren’t about the location. It’s not about the cities or hotels that I’ve been to. It’s not about the presentations I’ve done or sat in on. It’s not about any of that. It’s about the people I’ve met over the years and the people I look forward to seeing every time I go to an event. It’s about you!
That might sound corny, but it’s true. And it’s even more so this year. Having canceled every event last year — including Powertrain Expo — makes me realize how much I’ve missed seeing so many friends and colleagues.
It’s the people that make a home, and it’s the people that make up this wonderful industry. I hope to see you in October.
