After reading Creswell’s chapter, I realize that this is more of a space than a place. My hope was to get a picture from the middle of the road, but the noon traffic made that an impossibility. Ocoee Street is a space of movement that defies pausing. Instead, it is a boundary between two very important places in my life. It is the movement across this line that lends the road significance. In the foreground of the photo is a sign for Centenary Ave. This is my childhood street, the neighborhood I grew up in. In the background, across the border, is Lee University, where my parents have both worked for over 40 years and where I went to college. Ocoee Street is the demarcation line between these two places and carries layers of significance for me, my family, and my community.
As a kid, Ocoee Street was literally the boundary line. I had a lot of freedom and was often allowed to roam with my friends. But there was one rule: do not cross Ocoee Street. Of course, as I grew older, I was allowed to cross, but by then it had, for me, come to be a symbol of adulthood. My freshman year of college, I was determined to move onto campus. Yes, the dorm I moved to was about three blocks from my parents’ house, but the move across Ocoee Street personally marked my transition into independence and maturity.
For my family, this road also delineates the private from the public. Centenary Ave. is “home”, while Lee is “work.” Most people have to drive between work and home; the boundary line between the two is broad and may contain a variety of other significant places. For my parents, this road is the commute. It is a distinct line between the public and the private. I also suspect that this is part of why I was not allowed to cross the road as a child. I belonged in the private sphere of my parents’ lives and could not just show up at their offices any time I wanted.
Finally, this is a boundary line for my community. Although Lee University plays a large part in our city’s economy, there is a great deal of tension between Lee and the rest of the town. You may notice that the top of the street sign in the photo marks Centenary Avenue as part of the Historic District. As Lee grew, the community became increasingly concerned about demarcating where the university could and could not expand. The creation of the Historic District was one of many attempts to keep the school at bay. In this way, the boundary line has caused complications for myself and my family. As members of the Lee community and the Historic Neighborhood Association, my parents have had to work hard to walk the tight-rope of line between the two places and their separate interests. When I was in college, people around town would often ask me if I went to Lee. It seems like an innocent question, but I understood the underlying tensions implicit in their asking. I would often reply, “Yes, but I’m also from here.” Sometimes, that answer sufficed. “I am one of you,” it said. Sometimes, though, it was returned with a scowl. To some, it meant “I am a traitor.”
Although Lee continues to expand, it has never crossed Ocoee Street. It is a complicated victory,though, as the expansion tends then to raze the lower income neighborhoods north of campus instead. Navigating these various tensions and understanding the meanings of the places that I inhabit and how to modify my behavior crossing over boundary lines has been an intrinsic part of my upbringing. It also gives meaning to this between space, even it one can’t stop and appreciate it.
