The word “Home” can bring any number of responses to mind. For some, it brings back the smell of mom’s chocolate chip cookies. For some, it brings back memories of playing with dad, catch in the yard or hoops in the driveway. For some, it brings back harsher memories. Maybe home reminds us of a yelling father, an alcoholic father, or an absent father. Maybe home reminds us of stained carpets, dirty dishes, cans of beer, and cigarette butts overflowing the ashtray. Perhaps you never wanted friends to come over because you were ashamed of your family. Or, perhaps you always wanted friends to come over because you had so many cool toys and games to show your friends.
Home, for me, consists of three pieces:
First, there is a landscape. That landscape is the Pacific Northwest. I love the mountains, the evergreens, the waterfalls, the ocean. These things soothe my soul in a way that words can’t express.
Home also includes a group of familiar faces and places. This home resides in Indiana. It has faces like mom, dad, bro, Behr, so on and so forth. It has places in Montgomery County, in the Upland and Marion area, in the greater Indianapolis area.
The third component of home, for me, resides in books. There, I meet the wisdom of ages past. I meet the men and women who have made a difference. I meet the ideas that have shaped our government structures, our economic structures, our social structures. I meet the good, the true, the beautiful.
Somewhere, I think the three of those will converge. But I haven’t been there yet…