54.
What does that even mean? Just a number, right? But then, is it just a number? What if I told you today is my birthday and that I’m turning 54? Does that give it more meaning, more weight? Context is everything, isn’t it? It’s what turns random facts into something we can hold on to, something we can make sense of.
Being alive today, writing this post—that feels like a gift. But what about the past, the memories, the choices that led me here? How much do they matter to the present, to where I find myself today?
Right now, I’m sitting in Nauvoo, a small town on the banks of the Mississippi River. To most, it’s just a dot on the map, easy to overlook. But for me, it’s a place loaded with memories.
I spent a lot of time here as a performer, part of the core cast of the Nauvoo Pageant. Back then, I was also a devoted member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, so devoted that I helped bring others into the fold. But now, as I sit here, I see things differently. I no longer belong to that Church; I now consider myself an atheist.
The memories of my time here are fond, yet complex. There’s a certain warmth in looking back, but also a discomfort when I think about the Church’s policies and the broader role of religion as a whole. I can’t help but question the controlling nature that religion often seems to exert.
Soon, I’ll be heading to Chicago, a city that feels more like home than anywhere else. Chicago was where I spent eight incredible years of my life. It’s where I felt valued as an actor, truly seen and loved as a person. I made friendships there that are more like family, the kind that you carry with you wherever you go. Chicago is vibrant, alive, a place where I thrived.
But, even as I yearn for the connections I made there, there’s a hesitation. The reality of living in a place where the risk of gun violence is a constant undercurrent is hard to ignore.
Then there’s Brighton, my current home. It has its own appeal—the charm of the seaside, the eclectic mix of people, the comfort of a healthcare system that looks after its own. But England has its challenges too. The political landscape feels more insular lately, especially after Brexit, a move that feels like a narrowing of horizons rather than an opening.
So, here I am at 54, caught between the safety and uncertainty of two very different worlds, torn between the longing for my past life in Chicago and my current reality in Brighton. Is there really a perfect place to live? Or is it more about finding a way to carry all these parts of myself—my memories, my connections, my questions—with me wherever I go?
Maybe it’s about making peace with the contradictions and continuing to move forward, even if I don’t have all the answers yet.
For now, I’m here in Nauvoo, remembering, questioning, reflecting. Soon, I’ll be in Chicago, reconnecting with old friends, feeling the city’s energy again. And after that, who knows? The past is a big part of who I am, but it’s the future that keeps calling me forward.
