Monday
Jan312005
Monday, January 31, 2005 at 3:22PM A Trip Back Home
I was born and raised in Kansas City. I spent last weekend in the neighborhood where I grew up. Seeing the house I lived in, driving by my old schools, and catching up with some childhood friends resulted in a real churning of the feelings. It was a pleasant experience and I think something we should do occasionally.
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Some things never change and some things will never be the same. My childhood images etched into my memory are of newer homes, smaller trees, and longer distances between point A and point B. My old house and yard sure seem smaller now. The big Chinese elm in the front yard is a memory. It was a good climbing tree. I logged many hours sitting amongst its limbs contemplating adventures. As we drove that weekend, we traced ancient convenience store routes my friends and I took to the local Quik Trip for an Icee or other summer refreshment. I noticed some of the hills we used to ride sleds down. Looking at the schoolyards, I could see the ghosts of my classmates and days gone by. Friday afternoon, we passed by my old high school, Shawnee Mission Northwest, just as the kids were leaving for the day. That parking lot could tell some tales and so could I.
Even the tastes were nostalgic. Friday night was for pizza at probably the first place I ever ate pizza out. The crust is unique, a kind of cracker crust which is flakey and oh so good. Then there was the snow. About 6:00 PM, the snow began to fall and turned my childhood town into a Christmas scene worthy of Norman Rockwell. I hadn't felt snowflakes on my face in a long time. The snow is so clean and quiet. Even the locals, who have been putting up with a lot more winter than I, seemed to appreciate the beauty. I made a snowball or two and even a miniature snowman. Some skills need to be rekindled now and again.
Saturday morning, we awoke to a world of white. The snow was very wet and clung to everything, including power lines, fences, and anything that wasn't warm. I had a training run to do, snow or not. A friend of mine Mark K. ran with me. As we ran the neighborhood streets, we caught up with each other and other common friends. We both marveled at the quickness of life. But no regrets, we are both happy and have plenty yet to do. We both laughed at the irony of how we hated being forced to run the cross-country course in Jr. high and high school, but now like it so much, snow is no deterrent. As we ran, big fluffy snowflakes were still floating in the air.
Later that day, we went to my dad's 80th birthday party. He has some great friends, mostly Shriners. I enjoyed talking with some of them about their experiences in WWII. One man had been wounded while in France and rehabbed in New Orleans. The hospital he was treated at no longer exists, so I will have to look into that. The "old folks" are treasures of history who are often largely untapped. I found this man's story fascinating and encouraged him to contact the D-Day Museum in New Orleans, because they are collecting oral histories from WWII veterans.
After a visit with my friends and family, I often wonder why I wait so long between them. Time and distance rob us quietly. It is during the visits we realize what we have been missing.
Is there someone you should visit or call on the phone? Maybe a good churning of the feelings is just what you need.
Until the next time
John Strain
Albert Collins is singing about it and I'm doing it. I'm going to Kansas City. My dad will be 80 January 31 and we are celebrating that milestone this weekend. My brother George, who lives in KC, my sister from southern Missouri, and Barbara and I will all be together for the festivities.
