Recalling the Things that Take You Home
I was cruising down a long and winding country road in North Carolina last week, and little did I know, I was driving home—even though I never lived there.
My early morning ride on Ferguson Road took me through a colonnade of trees that cast a colorful canopy above me. Beyond this tunnel, were sprawling lawns, rolling hills, farms, crops, horses, pastures, ponds, and an expanse of blue sky.
The crisp, clean scent of a September morning wafted through my open windows while the soft sound of crickets began to “take me home.” On this particular morning, “home” was my father’s birthplace, Leonard, Missouri—where my five siblings and I would spend every family vacation throughout our childhood. Leonard was a quiet place where the population occasionally cracked 100, and the pace of life seemed slower, richer—and the people, kinder.
As a young boy, I loved the farm—for the fun—not the work. I relished riding horses, fishing in the pond out back, watching my younger brother, Bob, catch turtles, riding in the back of a pick-up into neighboring towns, running the bacon off the pigs with my older brother, Chris—and my favorite sport—chasing chickens. (Not sure why I felt compelled to see if I could tear my ACL).
On this morning, the scent in the air alone returned my family to me—my grandma, who lived to 103, my aunts, uncles, and cousins who teased and cajoled their naïve city slicker counterparts. Fried chicken at family dinner every Sunday after church, down-home conversations around the table, and easy smiles and gentle laughter reinforced the blessing of family traditions. The contrast between city and country life was not lost on me, and a porch swing, on every porch, soon symbolized the pace life should be lived.
Today, I owned the road. So, I pulled over. Snapped this photo. Breathed deep, and gazed at the pond. In this tranquil setting, I recalled that “home” is not always a physical location—but a place where memories live—and a place you feel most like, well, “you.”
When I arrived at my final destination, just ten miles from my hotel—a country church where a writer’s conference was being held—I was greeted by the women volunteers who offered me coffee, donuts, and later, soft drinks, lunch, dessert, and every snack imaginable. Yet, what I noticed most was their voices—southern accents filled with warmth and kindness—and it carried me the rest of the way home.
“There are three rules of dealing with all those who come to us:
1) Kindness; 2) Kindness; 3) Kindness.”
Fulton J. Sheen
What brings you home? Listening to music? A walk on the beach? Visiting a college campus where your life was changed? Penetrating conversations with your children? A bike ride on a summer day? Pausing long enough to hear the voices and the laughter of those you’ve loved—those who have gone before you?
As I drove down that quaint country road, it occurred to me that memories can sneak up on you in an instant—by something as simple as a scent—or accent. When that happens to you, pull over. Pause. And remember—these are the things that “take you home.”
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SOMETHING TO CHEW ON: What brings you home—figuratively or literally? This week do something that makes you feel the most like you. Then, email me. I’d love to hear from you. (jamescmagruder@gmail.com.)
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TWO SPECIAL NOTES:
GIVE AWAY CONTEST WINNER ANNOUNCED. The winner of my recent contest to win a SIGNED paperback copy of my novel, The Glimpse, AND a $20 Amazon Gift Card is: Marialice Faubel of Los Alamitos, California. She was notified via email on 9/22/21.
Congratulations, Marialice.
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WELCOME NEW SUBSCRIBERS! There are many new subscribers to this newsletter this month. Welcome. PAUSE MORE. RUSH LESS is a brief newsletter that is sent out twice a month and focuses on, well, pausing—slowing your life down. Why? Because when we pause more, we live more. How? We see more. Listen more. Hear more. Feel more. And then, respond and engage more. It comes to you every other Friday morning. Thanks for joining us. I’ll meet you in your inbox.
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