Homesick

Can you still get homesick after being away most of your life?  Don't know about you, but I can and do.  I grew up in a small town located in the hills of Pennsylvania, where the seasons changed so beautifully.  After I married, I spent a total of 5 years out of fifty in the vicinity of my youth.

There were several more years spent in places that had the change of seasons, such as Germany, (27 months), Steubenville, Ohio, (41 months), 46 months in Chicago, 10 months in Long Branch, New Jersey, 10 months in Pottstown, PA, 1 year in Denver, and 6 years, 10 months in Rolla, Missouri.  And, while I appreciated the change of seasons in each, there's no place quite like home.  Excluding Steubenville, which was close to home, 14 out of 50 years were spent where seasons changed.  The rest was high desert or tropical, which, by the way, has it's beauties, too.

My friend, Jeanne, must miss it, too.  She goes back every so often.  But then, she lives in New Mexico and the change of seasons there is not quite like the ones in PA.  Not sure Bettyann will feel that way when she moves.  Her aunt once said our town was a good place to be from.  In the 33 moves I've made, I can't say any ever replaced that special spot in my heart that my home town and its people still hold.

In fact, an email from the longest friendship in my life is what sparked my trip down memory lane.  Sharon and I once tried to remember when we first met.  We can't.  We were too young.  Our fathers and grandfathers knew each other, so our relationship goes a long way back.  I remember walking down to visit our second grade teacher, Mrs. Pendleton.  Such a lovely, lovely lady.  Always gave us flowers from her garden.

Not everyone was lovely, though.  Bettyann and I were laughing about the behavior of some of our neighbors and yes, our home town had an underbelly, but I just found out the very, very upscale community not too far to my south has one that is worse.  Ours was just a bunch of drunken neighbor men who met the screaming wrath of their wives with equally loud shouting at a time when the rest of the neighborhood would rather be asleep.  People are going to be people, no matter where you go.  When I heard of some of the goings on in the town I now live close to, I praised God He did not allow me to stoop to some of the things that have been done to acquire riches and power.

I lived across the street from a Boy's Industrial Home.  The home started as an orphanage.  Over the years, the state began to house boys there who'd been in some sort of trouble.  Petty stuff, but breaking the law, none the less.  In all the years we lived there, we only had one break in, never locked our doors unless we were going to be gone for several days.

The boy who broke in stole stupid stuff that we rarely or never used.  For example, I questioned what I'd done with my new wallet, thinking I hadn't placed it that drawer after all.  The police brought it back.  Likewise, a box of band aids my dad accused my brothers and me of wasting.  When Frankie crawled out a window, a neighbor caught him.  His excuse was that he was looking for his baseball.  Poor kid.  Learned what happened to my wallet, but wonder what happened to him.  His antics were nothing compared to what some will do for riches and power.

Maybe I'm just hankering for the quiet, peaceful days of the 1950's, where Moms stayed home, and neighbors wouldn't allow us to get away with anything, but at the same time, allowed us to be kids.  Sassing, bulling, fighting, vandalism was stopped in its tracks-and then parents were informed.  Running through yards to play hide and seek would just bring a smile.  "Have a good time, kids," my mom would say, "but don't get hurt."  Jeanne and I could walk downtown at 10:00PM to get her mother an ice cream cone from Jones' without a second thought of safety.  Today, kids are being snatched from their front yards in broad daylight.

I was thirteen when my friends and I rode the bus to downtown Pittsburgh to shop-unaccompanied by an adult.  There was one bus drive that acted a little too frisky, but we laughed at him.

People weren't so uptight then.  Not nearly so angry.  If the game of one upmandship was played it was far too subtle for me to notice.  Some people had more money than others, but who cared? Lawsuits between neighbors were unheard of and backfired when tried.  I remember cutting my foot on a screw on Sharon's metal wading pool.  Her mother put some blue medication and a band aid on it.  That night, Sharon's dad removed the screw.  End of story.

In Spring, we flew kites, and picked forget-me-not's in the field up the hill from our homes.  Mud from thawing dirt streets made a mess, but everyone had the same mess.  No big deal.  In summer, we waited downtown for the school bus that would take us to the one pool several miles away.  One car per family in those days.  Once in a while, Sharon's or Connie's mother would take us to all the way South Park where there was another pool.  Different families would go on vacation at different times over the summer.  Those still at home would find other friends or some outdoor pursuit (catching lightening bugs, picking blackberries) to keep us busy and out of trouble.

Autumn, ah, autumn.  When the frost would remove the chlorophyll and the Lord would reveal His awesome creativity in the spectacular colors of the leaves underneath.  Back to school and the beginning of wearing sweaters.  Going to footballs games.  Dad always said, "Have a good time, but act like a lady."  Sorry, Dad, but cheering for my team was not ladylike.

Winter.  Snow, sled rides, ice skating, Christmas.  Lights, lots of lights and icicles on the Christmas trees.  Hearing Christmas carols in every store from the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas Eve.  Bob could never understand why I wanted to decorate for Christmas the way I did.  Until we moved to Steubenville and he saw I wasn't nearly as gung ho as the rest of the community.

Even the bitter cold of January and February was special.  There's something invigorating about a very cold day, even when the sun is shining.  By March, the cold was beginning to lose the battle with the sun returning from its winter vacation.  Each season brought anticipation, each had a time of excitement.  And, yes, I still miss it.