When You Think Of Home, What Do You Specifically Think Of?

I have moved around a lot, so there are only two possibilities.

One is the home we had in a place called Perry County, PA, where I lived for 20 years. The house was okay, but the setting was awesome. We had 6 acres and were bordered on three sides by 900 acres of Boy Scout Camp. Deer and bear and turkey and pheasant. Bullfrogs with their basso profundo and the soprano tiny peepers frogs. Long evenings on the porch with friends and neighbors, singing country. Guitars and dobros and fiddles and harmonicas and voices.

The other, the parsonage where I was raised with five siblings. I think mostly of my Dad’s den, which was originally a breakfast nook. Bookshelves floor to ceiling. The smell of printer ink. The old standard typewriter where I typed the church bulletins and made copies on
the mimeograph, which was turned by hand and “made copies” by squeezing the ink through the template made by cutting out the letters from the typewriter.

Yeah. The good ol’ days.