Water Tower

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray . . . "

I remember singing that over and over again while sitting on our porch swing overlooking the busy street. Probably the only busy street in the town. Behind us sits our parsonage, owned by the church that is just paces away from our front door. Of course, no one ever uses the front door because we're all so budddy-buddy with each other. No. The back door was more suiting. You'd walk into the kitchen and be greeted with the ever present smell of chocolate chip cookies.

I remember the storms more than anything - which I know is a funny thing to remember. A tornado would strike up in the middle of a board meeting or a small group gathering down at the church. Before we knew it everyone would be sloshing through the rain and into our basement. Once before a storm we had had a luau with a whole pig and everything. We were lucky enough to have left overs, and once we got the all clear shuffled out of the basement to heat up some pork. As we filed onto the porch after the storm, we'd watch the hail hit the wet grass; as the clouds began to part a rainbow would shine onto our little part of heaven.


Tonight I travel down memory lane for the reason that there is no other choice. We have made a stop in our old little town in Missouri to visit friends both forgotten and remembered. A lot has changed. The old parsonage has long been torn down. The only thing left is a single tree, planted when I was born. Still a sapling when we moved to bigger and better things, it's unrecognizable now. Standing forever strong.

I just finished reading a book entitled Dead End in Norvelt by Jack Gantos. The plot took place in a small, dying town where an old woman was waiting to write the Original Norvelters obituaries before she herself passed on. One of the younger women in the town kept scheeming, trying to get others go join her in keeping the town alive. No matter what anyone said her opinion of her home could not be swayed. It was forever a part of who she was. It defined her existence.


In a way I think everyone has ties to their hometown. The place they were born holds a special place in their hearts, whether they want it to or not, because it reminds them of the carefree days of childhood. I don't remember anything but happiness when I lived in Missouri.


Growing up in Missouri our house sat right next to the town water tower. I used to think every house owned a water tower, and I always referred to it when I wanted to come home. We would walk over to the water tower and look up, getting dizzy as the clouds shifted around the monument. It was surrounded by sand which I always wanted to walk barefoot on just like the movies. My mother thought it was dangerous back there. She couldn't see us because of the thick grass that grew up around the fence. Broken glass bottles surrounded our little piece of land. It was beautiful because it represented home.

Maybe I'm just sentimental.

I need a good dose of reality.