Every Wednesday I got to my parents house and make dinner. Ya know what I made this week? Pork chops and applesauce. Gee, it was swell.
As someone who moved back to my original home (born in 1957) after over 3 decades away, I endorse this thread. I’ve been back on this spot for 26 years now.
My neighbors include kids I started playing with back when I was about 3 years old. Last week the Mrs. made a rhubarb pie using the same rhubarb patch in our yard that was there when I was born.
My home town was changing even before I left. When I moved back after a few years, parts of it were recognizable, but different, the rest was totally new.
The old childhood touchstone persons are all gone, like the “crazy” old lady who really would yell at us kids to get off her lawn, which we purposely traipsed across to make her yell. The old landmarks are slowly disappearing also, mostly. The old schools from when I was a kid are still there, but there are a whole bunch of new schools too.
Yum, rhubarb pie, please please tell me @Qadgop_the_Mercotan that she doesn’t adulterate it with strawberries or whatever, just straight sweet and sour rhubarb. Haven’t had a good rhubarb pie since Grandma passed away. 