Last night I went to sleep in Detroit City
I dreamed about them cotton fields of home
I dreamed about my mother, dear old pappy, sister and brother
And I dreamed about the girl who’s been waitin’ for so long
I want to go home
I want to go home
Oh, how I want to go home
Home folks think I’m big in Detroit City
From the letters that I write they think I’m just fine, yes they do
But by day I make the cars and by night I make the bars
If only they could read between the lines
I want to go home
I want to go home
Oh, how I want to go home
Detroit City. Bobby Bare. 1963
As a 3rd grader in June 1973, I went away for my first week-long overnight camp at Rolling J Ranch in the Southern California mountains. The three-hour trip to get there was exciting, save for the fact my best friend Brian Griset got car sick and threw up on the bus. When we got to camp, our counselor told us to write a letter home to our parents telling them we were there ok, and then we rushed off to our cabins. It was exciting to be away from home with my friends. I was looking forward to the week ahead.
Until I wasn’t. It took about three hours to realize I was homesick. And I still had six days to go. I remember choking back tears, not wanting any of my friends to see me. And in my head was a song I heard on the radio by a singer named Bobby Bare. It was called Detroit City, but the phrase in my head over and over was the key line: I want to go home. I want to go home. Oh, how I want to go home.
The song tells the story of a young man from the South who heads North looking for work. He winds up in Detroit working on one of the automotive assembly lines. He talks about how homesick he is but realizes that everyone back home thinks he’s successful. Maybe it’s pride, but he’s never told them how miserable he is. He has a façade that fools everyone but him. Eventually he decides to swallow his pride and head back home to his family.
I managed to survive my week at Rolling J, but it traumatized me for a long time, and I didn’t go to a week-long camp again until I was in 7th Grade.
Think about the last time you were asked “how are you doing? I would be willing to bet you said, “I’m fine.”
But were you?
Are you?
Most of us put on a façade. You can tell by looking at our social media posts. Nobody ever brags that their kids are lazy, their marriages suck, they had a terrible vacation, and they are flat broke. Everyone seems to put out the vibe that all is well. There’s nothing wrong with it, so long as you’re willing to open up when someone you trust asks how you’re doing.
None of us have come through the past three years better for the experience. I think we all have some permanent scars. I’m also afraid many of us are suffering in silence. So, for this week, I have two suggestions:
- When someone you love and trust asks how you’re doing, let them know honestly. If you need help, a listening ear, or encouragement, let them know!
- When you ask how someone is doing, don’t just brush off their answer. If they need help, a listening ear, or encouragement, let them have it!
Don’t suffer in silence. Be open to helping and being helped.