Thomas Wolfe
wondered if you can go home again and answered it by expanding on
difficulties one finds in trying to rekindle old memories related to
one's home. But was he right and could someone go home again these
days?
Home, one finds, is where the heart is, and therefore
can be anywhere. But the heart still seeks old memories, old friends
that formed one's past.
A journalist sought that return home, with anxious moments, but a
hopeful heart and a recognition that things change as do people when
they live over more than six decades. The streets and shops of La
Grande, Oregon may well have been the same those years ago, but children
recall far more than those. What adults seek out when they make the
journey home again is far different than the heart of a child that looks
for memories thought simple by many but full of enchantment
nonetheless.
The Granada Theater
still stands on the main street of town, more years than six decades,
all lit up at night, playing Alice in Wonderland, the kind of theater
that brings enchantment into children's lives.
|
It is the hill that goes over a roadway where a bicycle had to be pushed
for the exciting ride down, with hands in the air, knees gripping the
side, and shouts to call attention to what young folks once found a
brave and noble act.
A viaduct, before the
old freeway came, crossed over the railroad dividing the town, bringing
joy to children who rode bicycles down the hill.
|
It is the grade school, remembered as a
massive edifice with wonderful things inside to learn and a playground
where a child could swing as high as legs and arms could pump. The eyes
closed tight; the heart beat fast until one's body seemed to touch the
sky, before those legs and arms stretched out and made a leap. The
ground beneath accepted softly hearty thumps, an ankle sprained, a leg
scratched or just dirt and mud splayed in all directions, mostly on
one's clothes.
This grade school was
built in 1906 and remains a place where children learn and play in La
Grande, Oregon
|
It's hand in hand with Mother, grandmother, aunt to find that bolt of
cloth transformed to dress for school, for church, for Easter. The
Singer stitches made beauty for memories that remain.
These bolts of cloth
are like those used to make children's clothes, that women still buy for
those reasons, in small towns like La Grande, Oregon.
|
It is the snow, all welcomed in the winter, as children built their snow
forts tall, their snowmen standing sentinel in yards all bright in
white as feet crunched down, made slipper slopes as Moms and Dads cried
out, "Don't fall. It's cold. Now come inside." But no, the coats pull
tight, child cheek's stay red, the nose is numb, still played until the
dark.
In 2010 there was
little snow, but most years these patches, seen here on the mountain
areas entering La Grande, sit on the ground, deep and firm for children
to play.
|
The stream ran under the bridge where frogs croaked and water skippers
skimmed just the edges around where dandelions grew, gathered in bunches
for a Mother's birthday or for a water glass in a bedroom to make
beautiful one's day. The stream, long since has gone; its bridge has
disappeared. The memories though stay fresh of water skippers in a
shiny bowl sitting side by side with bees in fruit jars caught between
lids and glass quite quickly before one got a sting, then turned them
loose.
A stream ran along one
side of this street near its end, with a small bridge culvert underneath
where children caught water skippers and found bees along the grass in
La Grande, Oregon
|
The tree is there. The voices echo through the glistening past,
reflecting in the heart, of children on its branches, of sunlight
streams that weaved their way among the leaves in precious moments; all
remain.
An old house sits silently, its memories all gathered up inside, its
secrets stay untouched. No traces there of garden, no apron-wearing
grandmother waiting for her loved ones to pass by, the small ones whom
she hugged, zipped snowsuits up, gave spoons all frosting-tipped to
lick, then kissed and hugged and made them feel all cozy good all day.
This old house stands
starkly on Ash Street in La Grande, Oregon but in a child's eyes remains
beautiful.
|
The child's eyes, aged now but filled with thoughts and dreams and
wishes, stay just as they were for moments such as these. One doesn't
see the home is frayed, the grass dried up, the neighbors, friends and
family long since gone.
This home with its
tree, now with a brick facade and add-ons, was the home of a journalist
years ago who traveled the country to find the home again.
|
Instead the child is home, just as anyone might be when the heart is
always there, when the love inside remains. It all combines to remind
the seeker you can go home again if indeed one keeps the adage where
beauty truly comes, in its beholder's eyes.
Carol Forsloff