COMING HOME
This past week my travels took me back home where I had an opportunity to visit with my mother and do further research on the sequel to my historical fiction, "Oh! Susannah".
It was good to spend some time in the hometown and just not pass through; brought back memories actually. Back in the day, the village was a bustling place with lots of businesses downtown, which drew locals to a place they could gather and mingle. There were parks, tidy homes and clean streets. This is just not me reminiscing. The residents actually took a great deal of pride in where they lived.
I shouldn't have been surprised, but as I left town early Friday morning, I was struck at how beautiful downtown is at present, brick-paved streets, nearly all the shops occupied and showing pride of ownership. It occurred to me that, while other communities had fallen on hard times, my hometown looked as good as ever! Matter of fact, there are still well-maintained parks, tidy homes - my mother won "Yard Of The Week" for her meticulous gardens, and yes, the city's streets are still clean.
Unbekownst to me when I planned this visit, the annual Homecoming was scheduled for last week, and this event typically draws everyone to the Community Center and Brock Park, if for nothing else then to support the local Lion's Club by purchasing a "Lion Burger".
Talk about bringing back memories, my mind flashed back to the 1970's when the anticipation of The Homecoming was the height of summer. These memories, though, are not all good. Back then, I mowed lawns for two dozen, mostly older ladies in town, who basically paid for my first two years of college. To them I'll always be grateful, but, there were days when the last thing I wanted to do was mow lawns. One instance in particular was when I was cutting the grass of an elderly lady whose granddaughter was visiting. Her name was "Annette". My arrival had the effect of moving Annette off of her beach towel where she had been soaking up the summer's rays. But, she announced, that was ok because she was going to go across the street and over the bridge and take in the "matinee" that the carnival guys were putting on that afternoon. Looking across that lazy trickle of a stream the locals know as The Little Sandy Creek, oh how I wanted to go to the homecoming that afternoon. I would give anything just to be there and take in the atmosphere, maybe buy something to eat or enjoy an amusement ride. So close, yet so far away.
I arrived at my mother's house on Thursday, having missed the week's main event - The Parade - which usually lasts for hours. I've always been amazed how there is anybody left to watch the parade when seemingly everyone from the community is in the parade!
Anyway, with no pre-arrangements in place, I was going to suggest that my mother and I go down to the homecoming and get a couple Lion Burgers for dinner, for it didn't seem too crowded when I had driven by. However, my mother had our dinner all laid out on the table, just awaiting my arrival, and I never brought up my idea of going to the park.
It struck me how I was ok not going to the homecoming, genuinely indifferent after all of these years. This just seemed so out of character for me. It is sobering when one acknowledges that when and where has remained the same, and it's only me who has changed.