Home Sweet Home

 

        I have given this particular topic a lot of thought, trying to decide what direction to go with it. In the end, I thought I would share a few different ideas of what the phrase “Home Sweet Home” means to me.

When I travel to places where my ancestors lived, and I walk on the same ground where they have walked, I always get that feeling of “being home.” It is a warm and comforting feeling. The area where my dad was raised in central Tennessee in particular evokes this feeling whenever I visit there. While I have never actually lived there, I have visited it many times over the years, and it definitely feels like home. And I love hearing the stories of the old days from my friends and relatives when we have reunions. 

atop Hinch Mountain overlooking Sequatchie Valley

The home I grew up in certainly holds a special place in my heart. My dad did a lot of the physical labor in building this house in northern New Jersey. Even though my family doesn’t live there any longer, I visited there about 7 years ago. It was a simply wonderful home to live in with my parents, brothers, grandfather, and assorted pets throughout my youth. I’m sure I didn’t appreciate it as much as I do now, looking back on it. Here are some of the things I remember most:

• the smell of wood burning in the fireplace in the room next to the living room, 
• the record player where we listened to music,
• the player piano that we all had fun with and played too,
• Thanksgivings with my mom’s parents and her aunts and uncles,
• the trendy aluminum Christmas tree with the revolving color wheel, or some years we got a living tree that would be planted in spring.
• The beautiful flower gardens my dad tended,
• The forsythia shrubs along the driveway that I almost killed when I was learning to drive,
• The many vegetable gardens my dad had (asparagus, kale, tomatoes, various greens and so much more)
• The amazing tree house my dad built for us, 
• And the community we lived in, with its holiday celebrations. 4th of July was an all day event.

Our home in Brookside NJ late 1950's - mid 1970's

side view of our home - so many beautiful trees

The Blue Ridge Mountains, Hendersonville, and Asheville NC were home to my parents after their retirement, and that was my second home for many years. I visited there often, as you can imagine, and I still feel very much at home there. My parents and youngest brother are interred there in Hendersonville. Even though I love the prairies of ND, I also love the mountains, and a good friend of mine (and third cousin) in Tennessee told me I definitely have “mountain blood” in me. You see, I was not the least bit nervous as he drove me up and down the mountains on gravel roads with hairpin turns along Walden Ridge in central Tennessee, south of Crossville. Many people that live there won’t go on those roads!

My photo of the Blue Ridge Mtns from BR Pkwy

The house I live in now certainly feels like home sweet home. And I have grown to absolutely love living in Fargo, the people, the landscapes, and my home. I almost crave the wide open spaces of the prairie and farmland. Even though I live in town, I am only minutes away from beautiful views, where the horizon is a long way off. It makes for amazing sunrises, sunsets and watching approaching thunderstorms.  And as a friend told me, you can watch your dog run away for two days. No matter where I travel, it feels “right” to be here. 

My home in Fargo after very snowy winter - had snow moved from roof!

Now, as I grow older, I realize that my home sweet home is more of a state of mind than a physical location or building. Having that first cup of coffee in the morning, doing the daily crossword puzzle, reading a good book, feeling the sunlight and breathing the fresh air while out for a walk, talking and texting with my family and friends, and particularly learning new things with the amazing technologies that are available to us now is my home sweet home. 

My view at Xmas with coffee in hand!