The Finale- Going Home

I realized as I was writing these posts and I was titling them "Coming Home" it just didn't feel right. Visiting one's past literally and figuratively can often bring back a wealth of emotion which it did for me, especially certain places I visited. When I was growing up, as some of you know from following my blog for several years, my father was a Methodist minister. My world as a preacher's kid, I think was pretty usual, but as I think back, pretty sheltered in some respects. We had rules about how much and what television was watched, we had chores to do. We were offered piano, guitar, drum and/or ballet lessons, or church youth group.We went to summer camp. I got in trouble for saying "Oh my God!" We presented our parents with our own Christmas recitals. We got new sneakers and school shoes beginning every school year. We went with our parents to the grocery store but sat in the car. That's back when you could leave four children in the car. We had to play outside most of the time if the weather was nice. We rode our bikes around the block. We walked from home to the pizza parlor to get a .25 cent slice of pizza and walked to ballet class and home again. And every Saturday morning we went across the street to the town hall building which at the time housed the public library where we could check out lots of books. Needless to say I discovered my love of books. Rings Pond was also across the street and there were swans, ducks and geese, which you could feed. We also went ice skating on that pond. So here is Rings Pond on Main Street. Leaving Rings Pond and walking up Main Street was the Methodist church and parsonage. This is the house I mostly grew up in. I was bold that day. I walked up the hill right up to the front porch and rang the bell. I introduced myself and told them my father used to be the minister there and that I grew up in that house. I asked them if I might come in. They explained the parsonage was undergoing renovation(which explained the big can on the front steps)but they did allow me entrance to the downstairs. As soon as I stepped inside the door I was flooded with memories. I was both laughing and crying at the same time. I really wanted to see my old bedroom but again they explained several of the bedrooms were being renovated so I could not. I thanked them and left. So, on down Main Street. and to the pizza parlor which now cost $2.50 a slice. Then to 2 Alices Coffee Lounge( which was not there when I was growing up) for some down time with internet and of course yummy coffee and sweets. ........... and art............. While I did art in my lap. I was tickled to see my art in my "fairy godmother's" house. Remember this? Rudy the cat of the house told me it was time for us to go, that it was bad enough for Dexter to be hanging around. I took some pictures from the train as it moved up the Hudson River back to the city for our trip home. Thank you for coming along on my journey going home. I hope you have have a good weekend.........xoxo jo


  1. What a lovely post. I have never revisited any place I have lived as a child. I can imagine I would feel quite emotional.

    I still can't get over the two cats named Rudy and Dexter. Cats named after fake serial

  2. Thanks for the 'ride along'. I thoroughly enjoyed your trip! :)