My Old Kentucky Home, Part 2
I was on and off the phone with my family trying to get last minute directions to the hotel that was the impromptu staging area for my family. I missed my exit for the Parkway. I would later chuckle at the same scene as it played out in the movie Elizabethtown. In fact, I missed the same exit. Go figure. Anyway, I took advantage of my stop and changed into my slacks and dress shirt and tie. I had a laundry accident prior to leaving for my tradeshow and had very few clean clothes so.. I was a bit over dressed. Once I arrived at the hotel my family (particularly my sisters-in-law) pointed that fact out time and time again. Luckily my Dad let me borrow a polo and I changed back into my casual shorts and I was able to fit in. After all, as a family member put it, "It's a birthday, not a funeral." With the exception of my brother Kevin and my son, we were all able to be together. My brother Steve went and got us some local BBQ and we all ate lunch outside on what had turned into a beautiful afternoon.
The hotel as it turned out was just off the parkway and I had only driven a little more than a half mile into Central City before I stopped. I knew roughly where I was but the town had changed so much since the last time I was there I was nearly speechless. For anyone who has left a town and come back over a decade later, the first thing they'll tell you they notice is the trees. I was no different. The place looked as if nature had slowly but surely begun to take back the little town. I was still noticing the trees as we drove through town and past various family landmarks: the hill where my Aunt Ann and Uncle Joe's house use to be, the old radio station tower that was my childhood marker for getting close to grandmas' house, the old WalMart where my granny always shopped and the parking lot that was once the first drive-in I ever went to. Memories. It was like someone had uncorked part of my brain and a steady and nonstop tricke of childhood memories flowed in. The day was beautiful; blue skies and cumulus clouds were a nice touch for my grandma's birthday. Then we passed the graveyard.
The last time I was in this town was for my grandfather's funeral. The last time I saw most of my aunts, uncles and cousins was when I had to be a pall bearer for my grandfather. I hadn't been back to this town since I was 16. A lot changed that year for me and since, as if I'd lived a whole other life and the all of sudden I was being dropped back into my old one. When we arrived at the place where the party was, I felt like a stranger in my own shoes. My neices and nephews, parents, brother and sisters-in-law had ALL spent more recent time with my relatives than I had. I froze. I looked at the building and the small group of people standing and talking at the threshold. They were all my relatives and I didn't recognize a one.
The walk up to the building was only a hundered feet but it felt much much longer. I held back and took the rear position in the procession as we all started to file into the hall. There was a cousin, there was an aunt. All at once I was a kid again (in a good way) but the reality of the situation hit me and a wave of guilt hit me and hung over me off and on all day. Why had I lost touch with this whole section of my family? Letme be clear, I would hear word and questions through my Mom over the years. A Christmas card or two from Grandma or an Aunt would make it to my house but I never seemed to reply or reach back. I had reasons. They weren't very good ones and it wasn't my families fault. They hadn't done anything wrong. It was all inside me. I won't go into the reasons, I realized then and there what they were and it pained me to think I had let so many years go by. Life's so damn short to keep people who love you at arms length or a state or two for that matter.
Before my Grandma arrived I started to reintroduce myself to my family. It was amazing. Cousins that were children the last time I saw them, were now parents. I was introduced to the next generation and felt more at home in my own skin that I have in a long, long time. I spent time talking and reminissing with cousins and catching up on whole lives. It was during this that someone called me by one of my true names.
It's been written that a person's true name has power. If someone learns this name and uses it, they can wield power over you or your world. Rumplstilskin is such an example in literature, so is Mr. Mmyxlplyx for that matter. A couisin called me John-John. No one has called me that in a very long time. There are only a handful of people on this planet that have called me that and fewer still that I've allowed call me that. This side of the family is the ONLY group of people I let call me that. Again, words have power. There was nothing more I could have hoped for than to be greeted by my familial name. I was family and I was welcomed back.
The hotel as it turned out was just off the parkway and I had only driven a little more than a half mile into Central City before I stopped. I knew roughly where I was but the town had changed so much since the last time I was there I was nearly speechless. For anyone who has left a town and come back over a decade later, the first thing they'll tell you they notice is the trees. I was no different. The place looked as if nature had slowly but surely begun to take back the little town. I was still noticing the trees as we drove through town and past various family landmarks: the hill where my Aunt Ann and Uncle Joe's house use to be, the old radio station tower that was my childhood marker for getting close to grandmas' house, the old WalMart where my granny always shopped and the parking lot that was once the first drive-in I ever went to. Memories. It was like someone had uncorked part of my brain and a steady and nonstop tricke of childhood memories flowed in. The day was beautiful; blue skies and cumulus clouds were a nice touch for my grandma's birthday. Then we passed the graveyard.
The last time I was in this town was for my grandfather's funeral. The last time I saw most of my aunts, uncles and cousins was when I had to be a pall bearer for my grandfather. I hadn't been back to this town since I was 16. A lot changed that year for me and since, as if I'd lived a whole other life and the all of sudden I was being dropped back into my old one. When we arrived at the place where the party was, I felt like a stranger in my own shoes. My neices and nephews, parents, brother and sisters-in-law had ALL spent more recent time with my relatives than I had. I froze. I looked at the building and the small group of people standing and talking at the threshold. They were all my relatives and I didn't recognize a one.
The walk up to the building was only a hundered feet but it felt much much longer. I held back and took the rear position in the procession as we all started to file into the hall. There was a cousin, there was an aunt. All at once I was a kid again (in a good way) but the reality of the situation hit me and a wave of guilt hit me and hung over me off and on all day. Why had I lost touch with this whole section of my family? Letme be clear, I would hear word and questions through my Mom over the years. A Christmas card or two from Grandma or an Aunt would make it to my house but I never seemed to reply or reach back. I had reasons. They weren't very good ones and it wasn't my families fault. They hadn't done anything wrong. It was all inside me. I won't go into the reasons, I realized then and there what they were and it pained me to think I had let so many years go by. Life's so damn short to keep people who love you at arms length or a state or two for that matter.
Before my Grandma arrived I started to reintroduce myself to my family. It was amazing. Cousins that were children the last time I saw them, were now parents. I was introduced to the next generation and felt more at home in my own skin that I have in a long, long time. I spent time talking and reminissing with cousins and catching up on whole lives. It was during this that someone called me by one of my true names.
It's been written that a person's true name has power. If someone learns this name and uses it, they can wield power over you or your world. Rumplstilskin is such an example in literature, so is Mr. Mmyxlplyx for that matter. A couisin called me John-John. No one has called me that in a very long time. There are only a handful of people on this planet that have called me that and fewer still that I've allowed call me that. This side of the family is the ONLY group of people I let call me that. Again, words have power. There was nothing more I could have hoped for than to be greeted by my familial name. I was family and I was welcomed back.
posted by John Knight at
1:32 AM
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