Wednesday, February 19, 2014

We Always Come Home

Things have been rocky for several days, and then, well, we had a Monday holiday followed by what I like to call, "Second Monday", i.e., a Tuesday from Hades. I had computer gremlins coming and going. On the whole, it was somewhat chaotic.

The big ol' cherry on the top of my day occurred when I was unloading groceries at my house after work last night. A carload of teenagers sped past on the main drag, and the young woman in the front passenger seat yelled, "You're too f****** fat to need food!" I was stunned. Logically, I know it's immaturity, lack of couth, and no reflection on me whatsoever, it was just plain mean and nasty.

I posted a sarcastic status message about it in social media.

This morning, I had a really sweet note from the pastor who was my upperclassman in marching band, reminding me that the people who love us don't care about what we look like, and it's what's in your heart that matters.

Todd's the bomb, what can I say?

What came to mind is that although I live sixty miles away, Smalltownland is my home. It's not just my default when things go south, it's a lodestone for many of us. I don't have enough fingers to count how many of my friends have returned there after some blistering, awful letdown in life. Even those who have not returned make the journey to touch base when the world slides off its axis for the rest of many of my childhood friends came to the church when my mother died. The parents of others who for reasons of distance or work could not come, showed up to convey their condolences.

I won't claim that my hometown is perfect, but it is home. It isn't the place, it's the people. It's the feeling. It's where we're grounded.

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