I left my hometown back in 1976 for the final time. That is to say, that was the last year I actually lived there. Through social media I have reestablished some connections with that past. That began about ten years ago or so. At least that is when I first appeared on Facebook. Over time my computer skills improved and I discovered groups. Then I discovered the world of blogging, that was through a person I had known from high school. I was fascinated that you could just post your own blogs and they would be available to anyone on the internet. I still it is an amazing thing. As I posted and wrote connections were made, although not always clear to me. I recognize family names on occasion, you know what I mean, but am uncertain. Not wanting to hurt feelings or seem stupid I will not always ask about their ancestors. Yes, I'm at that age, I'm sometimes talking about ancestors. As an example I recently saw a posting about someone that had passed. The name is familiar. But it must be a son or grandson of the person I'm thinking of. That person was old! But then I have to remind myself that when I was a teenager someone in there thirties was old! I've been fooled by that in the past, better not to say anything.
So not having lived in that town, or area for forty four years now connections are thin indeed. I expect I know more people in the cemetery than I do above ground. Chatting, reading posts and looking at photographs have revealed some things to me. Some things have been a surprise, while other things have remained the same. I hear the same old complaints that existed when I lived there, just updated a bit. Apparently helicopters are becoming a nuisance more so that automobile traffic. Well, that and landscapers! But beyond all of that everyday stuff that is to be expected no matter where you live. it is the social attitude that I observe. If that is the proper way to express that. I have found some of my " camp " still reside there, while the other camp has grown in size. Being a native son I can see that. Some things really haven't changed at all. Although I can see the power shifting, or should I say slipping away, from those that traditionally held that position. Old power, like old money, being replaced by the new. Wealth and power go hand in hand. I hear talk of building affordable housing. We need a place to house the " natives. " After all, the natives maintain the amusement park don't they? I couldn't help but think of the original natives and how " reservations " were made for them. A parallel could be made to " sharecroppers " housing provided for the hired hands.
The thing is, it is nothing new. It was that way forty four years ago, and forty years before that. It's always been that way. I am connected to that past. Even though I am far away now I can still see parts slipping away. The house where I was raised is gone now, the corner store where I went as a child, gone but rebuilt, rebuilt in an unrecognizable form. The home of an old childhood friend no longer sits where it once did, I've been told it was relocated. Not an unusual thing for my hometown. Many visible things have remained unchanged though, or at least in a recognizable form. It is the people that that I miss, not the landscape or buildings. I have found a few living in cyberspace, who could have imagined such in years past? The connections are strained by time and distance however, no denying that. The experiences of those I knew all those years ago are certainly different than my experiences. Thirty years ago my fathers ashes were placed in the cemetery next to his mother and father. As I stood there I couldn't help but think, he'll be the last. It was his wish to be buried there, between a mother he never knew, and a father he knew only a short time. Now resting in eternity with them both. I will not be joining him there, nor will any of my siblings. Indeed my sisters' ashes are in Florida and one brother here in Maryland. Most likely Maryland will be where I rest. But who can say. I left my home for the first time when I was 18 years old, little did I know; when I went back, home wasn't where I had left it. Its' been said home is where the heart is, and I agree. Home is found within your heart, not on a map. Took a few years to figure that one out.
So not having lived in that town, or area for forty four years now connections are thin indeed. I expect I know more people in the cemetery than I do above ground. Chatting, reading posts and looking at photographs have revealed some things to me. Some things have been a surprise, while other things have remained the same. I hear the same old complaints that existed when I lived there, just updated a bit. Apparently helicopters are becoming a nuisance more so that automobile traffic. Well, that and landscapers! But beyond all of that everyday stuff that is to be expected no matter where you live. it is the social attitude that I observe. If that is the proper way to express that. I have found some of my " camp " still reside there, while the other camp has grown in size. Being a native son I can see that. Some things really haven't changed at all. Although I can see the power shifting, or should I say slipping away, from those that traditionally held that position. Old power, like old money, being replaced by the new. Wealth and power go hand in hand. I hear talk of building affordable housing. We need a place to house the " natives. " After all, the natives maintain the amusement park don't they? I couldn't help but think of the original natives and how " reservations " were made for them. A parallel could be made to " sharecroppers " housing provided for the hired hands.
The thing is, it is nothing new. It was that way forty four years ago, and forty years before that. It's always been that way. I am connected to that past. Even though I am far away now I can still see parts slipping away. The house where I was raised is gone now, the corner store where I went as a child, gone but rebuilt, rebuilt in an unrecognizable form. The home of an old childhood friend no longer sits where it once did, I've been told it was relocated. Not an unusual thing for my hometown. Many visible things have remained unchanged though, or at least in a recognizable form. It is the people that that I miss, not the landscape or buildings. I have found a few living in cyberspace, who could have imagined such in years past? The connections are strained by time and distance however, no denying that. The experiences of those I knew all those years ago are certainly different than my experiences. Thirty years ago my fathers ashes were placed in the cemetery next to his mother and father. As I stood there I couldn't help but think, he'll be the last. It was his wish to be buried there, between a mother he never knew, and a father he knew only a short time. Now resting in eternity with them both. I will not be joining him there, nor will any of my siblings. Indeed my sisters' ashes are in Florida and one brother here in Maryland. Most likely Maryland will be where I rest. But who can say. I left my home for the first time when I was 18 years old, little did I know; when I went back, home wasn't where I had left it. Its' been said home is where the heart is, and I agree. Home is found within your heart, not on a map. Took a few years to figure that one out.
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