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you can never go back (because when you do it all looks different) - The Villages

Date: 2007-02-18 01:21
Subject: you can never go back (because when you do it all looks different)
Security: Public
Location:back in the little room with all the boxes
Music:total silence

I wasn't going to post tonight because we just got back from my sister-in-law's funeral and I'm tired and not in a great frame of mind and have taken strong drink, but before I go to bed and forget all about it  I want to jot some thoughts down about the experience of going back to the place where I grew up after ten years or so.
It's the weirdest thing. It's like going back onto a stage where some of the scenary has changed but some of it's been left where it is, so you look at the family-run shop you grew up with but now it's a `nail bar.' The roads are in an horrendous state. Everything seems run-down and desperate. There's been a lot of new building and renovation, and none of the changes in architecture are in keeping with the character of the village. It all looks so cold and desolate, I can't imagine having grown up there. It really was quite a shock.
And now I'm back home in the Barnet-Finchley-Hornsey Triangle, a place which once seemed quite alien to me and now seems like the cosy centre of the universe and I'm not entirely sure where I'm from any more.
I'm not being entirely egotistical - my sister-in-law's funeral was a tough thing and I'll share my feelings about that privately with my friends. I just wanted to share my rather confused thoughts about going home again. Now hutch is off to his bed.

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User: jmward14
Date: 2007-02-19 04:26 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
Healing hugs,
Jean Marie
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User: hutch0
Date: 2007-02-19 16:34 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
Bless you, Jean Marie.
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User: (Anonymous)
Date: 2007-02-19 06:18 (UTC)
Subject: feeble words...
I've managed NOT to post a message a couple of times now. I suspect it was the cosmos telling me to shut up; thus, I will try a different, somewhat shorter, tack (and make sure I post BEFORE closing the window).
Joseph Sheppard, a well-respected anthropologist, tells this story from his experience with a small population in Sub-Saharan Africa with which he lived for many months: The elders allowed him to listen to their consultation (with the help of an interpreter at first). They spoke almost exclusively in simple proverbs, sometimes repeating the same proverb emphasizing a different word. Rarely did they expound or add their own opinion.
With that preamble --

You can't go home again.
The only constant is change.
Bloom where you're planted.
Be grateful for what you've got.
Home is where the heart is.
Fewness of word; abundance of deeds.

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User: hutch0
Date: 2007-02-19 16:35 (UTC)
Subject: Re: feeble words...
Bless you, too, Jean Marie.
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