By Jamie Kanter

January 15, 1997

You can never really go home again

After spending the last few days catching up with friends, it seemed as if many of us were looking forward to a new semester. While this may seem odd to some of you out there who cannot believe the break is over so soon, there is a good reason for some excitement.

Over the holiday season the ol' homestead becomes more like a cattle ranch. Grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, nephews, nieces, and all the rest pack up their earthly belongings and trudge over to your house to share some quality time. While this may seem like a nice way for the family to get together, don't believe it.

When the Steinbeckian procession of migrant workers finally rolls into the driveway of your four-bedroom house, you know you're a goner. You see them unload dozens of suitcases from the roof of the car or the back of the RV and you know it's time for you to lug their crap upstairs. After this pleasant excursion, you have to wade through the sea of relatives so that they can tell you what a fine young gentleman or lady you've turned out to be. If you are particularly unlucky, you have one of those whining relatives for whom nothing is ever good enough. Those are a rare treat.

Of course, your journey does not end there. When it comes time for everyone to find a bedroom to overtake or a bathroom in which to perform their disgusting pre-sleep rituals, they always want to pick yours. Sure, little sis may have a nicer room or a bigger bed, but they want to force you to flee from your one sanctuary. They want you to leave the one place you've been dreaming of all semester.

And then you have the one relative who leaves a trail of stench lurking wherever he may roam. This is typically the jolly uncle or grandfather who walks around in his underwear (if you're lucky) and scratches himself more than any human rightfully should. He laughs heartily at the fear he instills in others after he marks his territory.

And then there's the annoying cousin. Some of you may pretend not to be aware of any annoying cousin, but I assure you that you are simply repressing the memory in order to avoid the pain. This little kid falls into one of two categories: the dork or the hellion. The dork simply follows you around the house, studying everything about you in the vain attempt to one day match your coolness. His mother typically guilts you into letting him tag along because she doesn't want him hanging around the house. The hellion is a special breed whose main talents involve setting fires, smoking pot, selling pornography, and relating tales of his sexual prowess. His mother typically doesn't know where he is but wants him out of the house so that he won't burn it down. Either way, you have the honor of escorting him around town.

No matter how annoying the relative, no matter how uncomfortable the couch, you are stuck with both during your vacation. The house you left as you ventured off to college is not the same as the one to which you return. You no longer have the big bedroom; now you stay in the linen closet with your friends, the mothballs. You no longer have the bathroom space; now your siblings have taken it over. You no longer even have a place to put your stuff. There's just no more room.

Do not get the wrong idea. I love my family and I enjoy visiting them over the holidays. It just seems that going home isn't really going home anymore - it's going to a house that might have an empty bed in the guest room. If your parents haven't rented out your room yet, just you wait. Life goes on, even without you.

Jamie Kanter is a Spanish and psychology jumior. His column, 'On the Flip Side,' appears every other Wednesday.