When your Hometown is no longer Home

One of the truest clichés ever repeated: Home is where the Heart is. My home is with the Love of my life. Wherever he goes, so goes my heart. Home could be in a big city, a small town, or to quote an old Saturday Night Live gag, in a Van down by the River. Also true, though is that as the people you love live their own lives, and eventually to go to their eternal destination, your heart seems to split a little. Mine now resides partially in Arkansas, Texas, Florida, and in paradise.

            Your hometown, though, is another matter. This locale is defined during childhood. Remembering and cherishing it doesn’t diminish the places you live later, or make it any harder to feel at home wherever you are. It’s just that the environment that most influenced your growing up years will always be special, no matter where else you end up.

            When you return to your hometown, you have a longing to see the old familiar spots. It’s a little hard to adjust to seeing them in more rundown condition, or even completely gone. But, in a way, you’re pleased about the changes. You want to know that things will continue, with new vitality. A town can retain its character regardless of the people who come and go, the places that are torn down and replaced.

            I grew up in Pittsburg(without the “h”) Kansas. When I was a teenager there, one of our favorite activities was “cruising” up and down the main street at night, honking and waving, and just having a good time wasting gasoline. We would start at the north end of town at the Sonic, proceed south past the high school, through the heart of downtown, ending up in a grocery store parking lot just before we reached the college campus. There, we might stop for awhile, to see who had a new car, or who had added something to really spruce up the old one. We might sit on our hoods or lean against another car to visit. Of course, the police used a different, more sinister sounding word: loitering. This of course, could not be allowed, so we jumped back in and headed north for the Sonic again.

            Returning recently, I was pleased to see that now that my generation is in charge, this town has improved on the old tradition. On the particular Saturday night I was there, a makeshift sign in front of an old Wal-Mart advertised a “car show”. The current residents are evidently authorized to stop and proudly run a chamois over their new paint job. Good things come to he who waits!

            It was also good to see old names on businesses, in the same location as when I was young. The third or fourth generation of the family must still be dedicated to keeping a good thing going. Also evident was the pride that the townspeople still had in valuable assets like the public library, the municipal auditorium, the band shell in the park.

            Of course, the people who never left the old hometown can help to make us feel welcome when we return. Good friends Hilma and Charlene certainly reminded me that the years that have passed can become meaningless over a cup of tea and cheerful reconnecting. There are other places where time completely stands still. During a worship service at my old church, nothing significant had changed. The comfort of common beliefs and traditions make us truly feel like we belong, no matter how many years between visits.

            Today, in what seems a frequent topic for this column, one of our favorite Ouachita hometowns has been devastated by the forces of nature. Folks in Arkadelphia can certainly identify with their neighbors in Mena, as can the residents of Greensburg, Kansas. Even after grieving for the lives that were lost, there will be a long, painful process of rebuilding. Many old landmarks that rekindle memories for current and former residents are now gone, or substantially altered. But, will the spirit of the town remain?

            From past experience, the answer seems to be a resounding “Yes”. The very first Sunday after the terrible tornado ripped through the heart of town, worshipers celebrated Easter Sunday. What better symbol of hope, of resurrection? The strong faith of the survivors will be the driving force behind the rebuilding process.

            Those of us who don’t live nearby are also experiencing a familiar feeling of helplessness. What can we do? First of all, we can pray. God’s intervention and his peace will be invaluable to all who are working to help Mena come back. Secondly, we can watch for appeals from the proper agencies. They will need help: physical labor, materials, and money. Each of us should be able to find some way to contribute. As in Greensburg, those drops in the bucket will come together to make a difference.

             As we learned after Katrina, the population of the town may also change. Folks may need to go elsewhere for jobs and living arrangements, and then decide if they can rebuild on the same site. Regardless, the spirit of the community will live on. Ouachita residents will continue to work together, and our hometowns will continue to hold a very special place in our hearts.

           

 

Welcome Surprises and Hidden Treasures

“Granny, Look Down!!!” My daughter-in-law’s shout prevented me from walking over my knee-high grandson. The others gathered for the Hunt family reunion laughed as I yelped and leaned down to scoop him up. It seems everyone in that pavilion on top of Petit Jean Mountain knew that my oldest son and his family were coming, except me. I was happy to switch from setting up dinner to accepting hugs and kisses from my sweeties.

Most of my favorite surprises involve someone I love, but had not expected to see at that moment. Of course, there may have been some sort of material gifts involved at one time or another, but nothing stands out like those warm smiles and hugs. A couple of years ago, all three kids cooperated in an elaborate plan to gather friends and relatives at Mills Park in Bryant for our 30^th wedding anniversary. The number of people who were required to keep secrets that day was amazing, and certainly impressed James and me. Some plans have been far less involved, like the times my second son would drive down from Fayetteville to Paron on Sunday morning, and just appear in his spot next to me in the pew. Times like these make my heart race a little, and any previous aggravations just melt away like snow.

This time of year, nature catches us off-guard with her beauty. We should have known those Bradford pears would suddenly pop out one morning. After all, they were in the same spot last year. Still, though, when the sun catches a delicate redbud in the just the right way, we gasp with a new-found respect for God’s creation. Speaking of nature- if any of you remember my column about my oldest grandson’s apple tree- I’ve attached a recent picture. Just as expected- brave new leaves are sprouting!

During Ouachita back-roads jaunts, we’ve gotten used to seeing a patch of daffodils where an old home-place once stood. They remind us that someone once loved that spot enough to plant a few perennial decorations. But what do we make of a grouping alongside the freeway? Did some highway worker embark on an un-official beautification project? Or were these wayward bulbs scooped up from their former home and accidentally transplanted? Either way, they are a welcome sight, brightening a boring drive.

Sometimes, we feel that we’re the only one who didn’t know. While delivering last month’s issue in Saline County, I discovered that the Bryant Senior Center is a happenin’ place, at least at noon on the Wednesday I dropped in. The absolute lack of parking spaces outside was a big clue, but I assumed it just meant a meal was being served. Sounds of someone singing in a microphone, and an amplified guitar began to fill in the blanks, and I opened the inner door to a real Western dance hall. A live band was performing, and couples were two-stepping around the floor. A few sat at convenient tables, but food certainly wasn’t the focus that day.

Recently, I had another “who knew?” moment when my sister and niece arrived for a visit from Texas. I was thrilled when they called on a Saturday to say they would be coming that following Monday (my motto- Guest Room at the Ready). The real surprise was their mode of transportation. Did you know that a passenger train still arrives and departs from Malvern every day? More correctly, it happens in the middle of the night, but I was totally oblivious. ( A side note- this makes me miss the depots at Benton, Bauxite and Bryant all over again. There were all in place less than 35 years ago.) Each time we went down to meet the train, there was at least one other family there either meeting or sending off a loved one. In view of the crowded freeways, might we see a return to this reliable form of getting together?

 April brings Easter, and a different sort of surprise- the hidden treasure. Just as when we were kids, the current generation searches through tall grass and behind tree trunks for colorful eggs. In our day, they were usually hard-boiled, with maybe one fancy prize egg. Now, they use more durable plastic ones, all with the potential to contain a coin, or a jelly bean. Into the basket they go, and on to the next. Last year, my small grandson couldn’t get enough of this hide and seek game. Ahh, the thrill of the hunt.

 I’ve enjoyed finding hidden treasures over the years, too. In New Orleans, the dilapidated storefronts in the French Quarter shielded beautiful courtyards, complete with fountains and flowers. There was a surprise at every turn.

Once, in West Virginia, I entered a room in an old country store that completely took my breath away. In that location for over a century, its cathedral ceiling lit by well placed windows, it had been a favorite gathering spot for locals for generations. The stone hearth and numerous rocking chairs begged me to sit down and stay, perhaps forever. A very strong déjà vu feeling made it extremely hard for me to join my family and friends as they went on to see other sights.

Of course, we don’t have to travel to other states to find beauty and a sense of belonging. Maybe because we’re surrounded by so much splendor here all the time, we don’t notice it as much. Familiarity breeds …. Familiarity.  Are you in search of hidden treasure? Daylight savings time means we don’t have to get up as early to catch a sunrise. Peek out one of these mornings, and just take a deep breath. What a welcome surprise, and it’s been there all along.