Page 18 - Esquire - USA (Winter 2020)

this Way In
A LET TER FROM THE EDITOR
THIS MUST BE
THE PLACE
e’ve reached the end of a very weird
decade. A failed-businessman-turned-
W reality-TV-host is the leader of the
free world. A social network once
used to look at photos of your cousins’
kids has hobbled our democracy. A
nifty DVD-home-delivery service has
Hollywood’s major studios on the ropes. It’s all enough
to make a man feel...unrooted.
For me, the ’10s were momentous: I got married.
Moved to New York. Had two kids. Landed my dream
job. (This one!) After the longest drought in the history
of major league sports—108 years—the Chicago Cubs,
my hometown team, won the World Series.
Yet there’s something about adulthood—even in my
late thirties, with a family to feed, a staff to lead, and
bills to pay—that feels transient. Like this life could
disappear overnight. Maybe that’s because as many
16 Winter 2020_Esquire
of our friends have left New York as have moved here.
Maybe it’s because we rent.
As we barrel into a new decade, I’ve been consider-
ing this idea of home. Is home the place where you live
now? Where you grew up? The community that most
shaped you? Maybe your answer to all those questions
is the same. Maybe it’s more complicated.
The concept of home came up as we mapped out
where to shoot this issue’s cover star, Michael B. Jordan.
We wanted a location that would mean something to
him, so we started scouting Newark, New Jersey, where
he grew up, and settled on his alma mater, Newark Arts
High School. One sunny day in September, Gioncarlo
Valentine captured the actor in the hallways and class-
rooms of his youth. If the excitement of the students—
and a few faculty—is anything to go by, this commu-
nity supports its most famous graduate.
THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT
ADULTHOOD—EVEN IN
MY LATE THIRTIES—THAT FEELS
TRANSIENT. LIKE THIS LIFE
COULD DISAPPEAR OVERNIGHT.
When the shoot wrapped, Jordan was whisked to the
airport for a flight to Berlin, where he’s spending the
next month filming Without Remorse. Where’s home
for someone who travels so relentlessly, who was born
in Orange County, California; grew up in Newark; and
now lives in the Hollywood Hills? Read Mitchell S.
Jackson’s profile of the actor (page 70) to learn more.
Though it’s been twenty years since I left Park Ridge,
the Chicago suburb where I grew up, I’ve always consid-
ered it home. Until recently, that is. Earlier this year, my
family visited my parents, who live in the same house
in which they raised my brother and me—a place
where I feel instant comfort. A few days into our trip,
my four-year-old daughter, who always adores visiting
her grandparents and cousins, looked at me and said,
“I want to go home.”
A line from Talking Heads echoed through my brain.
“Home, it’s where I want to be/But I guess I’m already
there.” It dawned on me: Your home is where your peo-
ple are. They might be your parents and siblings. Your
friends. Your partner. Your children. For me, it’s my
little girl, her younger sister, and their mom. One day,
my daughters will find new people to call their own,
and they’ll have new homes. I’ll celebrate that—so
long as they’re Cubs fans.
—Michael S E B A S T I A N
photograph: Aaron Richter