Some Things Stay the Same

I recently went back home to celebrate the life of my cousin. Whether it can truly be called “home” might be debated, but to me, it will always be home. It is the place that shaped me—the place where I spent my most formative years. I have lived away from it for most of my life, yet every time I return, it somehow feels both exactly the same and completely different.

I don’t know everyone the way I did when I was a kid. In fact, many of the people I see now are strangers. Still, so many of them are family and old friends who, thanks to cell phones and social media, I’ve managed to stay connected with over the years. Seeing them in person is even better. The hugs feel deeper, and the memories we share are priceless. Every visit is bittersweet, because even though so much has changed, in some ways everything remains the same.

The world is much bigger and busier than it felt when I was a child. Back then, family gathered all the time. Everyone lived nearby, in the same place. Now we are scattered across different towns, cities, and even states. Coming home isn’t as easy as it once was. We all have obligations in the places we now live—new friends, new memories, and lives that compete with the nostalgia of our hometown.

When I go back, I see both the good and the bad changes. I’m reminded of the people we’ve lost, and that always hurts. I see a place that both traumatized me and protected me. It holds bad memories and good ones that constantly battle within my mind, heart, and soul.

Maybe that is what draws us home—to the place where our lives began. Like trees, we were planted and cared for as saplings until our roots were eventually dug up and replanted somewhere else. But some of those roots were left behind. Because of that, the place where we grew into young adults will always be our first home—the place where a piece of our souls will forever remain.

Now let’s talk about small-town living and what it was like growing up in a small town in the 1970s and 1980s. The first thing that comes to mind is that life back then felt simpler, slower, and in many ways more meaningful. The world seemed smaller. Information and knowledge weren’t instantly available, so you had to work harder to find them. In a strange way, that made them more valuable and precious.

Hard work had its rewards, and there was pride in completing a task or finishing a job. Gratification wasn’t instant like it often is today. We spent more time outside. When we wanted information, we read books we found by searching through card catalogs and checking them out from the library. We took pictures with cameras that required film, and we had to wait for the photos to be developed before we could see them—unless you were lucky enough to have a Polaroid.

We went to music stores to buy albums and cassette tapes. MTV actually played music videos back then, and before that we had to wait for shows like Friday Night Videos to see them. All of these little steps made us appreciate things so much more.

Don’t get me wrong—I love the convenience of our digital age, and I take full advantage of it. But I still miss the 70s and 80s. I miss the excitement of buying a new cassette tape and rushing home to listen to it, or popping it into a Walkman and heading out the door. And who could forget renting a VHS movie from the local video store? Rewinding the tape when you finished watching it was simply considered the polite thing to do. (LOL)

I hope everyone has memories that outweigh the bad ones—memories of a place that holds your roots and your heart, and people who remind you of a past that still makes you smile. My place, and my people, grew up with two mountain peaks watching over us—a sight I still treasure to this day.