The Central Record is by no means a big paper. It is not fancy or trendy, it is published once a week on Thursdays and costs 50 cents (when was the last time you saw a newspaper for 50 cents?!) an issue. I can skim the whole thing in a matter of minutes; headlines tend to focus more often on local sports teams or zoning laws than they do major crimes, drama, or gossip. Still, I look forward to its arrival in my mailbox once a week, knowing it will always arrive late, that I'll often be reading about the local Halloween parade weeks into November. I have not technically resided in my hometown for more than ten years and yet I find it oddly comforting to be able to sit down on my couch three floors up from the ground in my apartment here in Boston, years removed from a majority of the activities I used to participate in in my hometown and in my high school and discover that...not much at all has changed. There is still the breakfast with Santa, the haunted hay rides scheduled in the fall. The schools still take their kindergarten classes to tour the family farm that makes the best apple cider donuts around, the rivalry between the two closest high schools remains as strong as ever. Often, I recognize most of the teacher's names that are mentioned, particularly, these days when the paper runs articles covering their retirement. Occasionally, though thankfully not very often, I know a name or two that pops up in the obituary column. I follow the high school sports page with a thoughtful, knowing glance. It brings me great comfort to look at pictures of teenagers dressed up in their proudest blue and white school colors watching football games in the stands, recalling the days when my own friends and I used to do...exactly that. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
I have called Boston home for 14 years total, with a few brief stints away here and there. Seeing as I left the Garden State at age 17 for college, and really only lived back in NJ for a handful of months after college, I'm nearing the time when I've spent almost as much time away from my hometown as I did growing up in it. And while I absolutely think of Boston as my adult home and the place in which I have carved out my "grown up" life, I believe I will forever identify with my hometown as the place I know and understand in some unspoken place in my soul, the place that knew what home was before I ever even knew to look for it. For I find that as much as I love the city life and New England overall, there is a place among the Pine Barrens that I understand best of all. It is a spot I consider my forever love, a spot that always seems to welcome me back, no matter how long I've been away.
2 comments:
Tabernacle still feels like home to me, too. And I'm glad it doesn't change with time. I still love the little back roads & the quiet countryside with little or no traffic. It was a great place to raise my family. Who knew? NEW JERSEY of all places! I'm so glad you have such cherished memories; I enjoyed sharing those years with you. I think of it as my "adult" home, too just as you do Boston. Loved your blog post. So beautifully written. You should submit it to the Central Record. Bet they would publish it!
I love this. My hometown is mostly unrecognizable, it grew from 2,000 people to over 13,000 in the last 15 years and...it just isn't at all the same. I hardly like going there because except for the unchanging mountains it doesn't feel like home. I love that you have this connection to your hometown, I envy it, actually. Yay for The Central Record!
xox
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