If I Ever Go Back Home Again
I don’t know when it happened that most people in American lived in or around cities. When I grew up on a farm in the 1960’s and early 1970’s it didn’t feel that way. In the part of Ohio where I lived I think roughly half the people at that time lived in small towns, on farms, or in the countryside. After visiting my old hometown, I get the feeling that things haven’t changed all that much in the past 50 or so years.
A few months ago I wrote a piece about going home to South Charleston, Ohio. The visit was rushed because of the schedule my publicist and I were on. We had less than a week to cover scheduled and unscheduled visits to place in three states. It was interesting seeing some of the place I used to live, though. Noting what had changed and what had not (most things hadn’t changed all that much), fascinated me.
I had a crazy idea about visiting my old library, the place I learned to love books. I thought I’d donate my most recent books, the ones of which I’m proudest, and a few others titles from my publisher, the great and underappreciated works of some of my dearest colleagues. Disappointingly, the librarians at the Houston Library of South Charleston were at best cool to the idea. To them, I was just another author (maybe they thought I was self-published) who wanted to get my opus onto the shelves of their hallowed halls. Really, what I expected) was a brief conversation about my connection to the town and perhaps sharing a few stories from the past – things that only someone my age might remember about the curious little town. That never happened.
It is a rite of passage for an author to have a book on the shelves of a library. It’s not as easily accomplished as you might think. Space in a library is at a premium. Although they may want to support authors, especially local one, they also have to answer to superiors about their borrowing rates.
When I lived in Melbourne, FL the local library was more receptive to my first two publications. I recall the feeling of accomplishment I had when later on I visited the library with my daughters and together perused the stacks until I found my books, alphabetical by author. No, it didn’t appear that anyone had checked them out. But still, that ranked high on the cool factor for all concerned.
I was speechless after the reception I received in my hometown, which is something for me to say. My publicist commented that the ladies were rather rude.
[image error]Houston Library of South Charleston
Since then, a lot of things have changed. I moved to Southern California, so I’m farther away from my roots. Although I have visited Ohio several times in the past few years, always before this past year I stayed around Cleveland. And the visits were intended for a more local base of operation for other excursions. Christine, my publicist, lives less than a hour to the west of the city. Since I’m now three time zones distant, I’m not sure when I’ll next be able to swing a trip to the Midwest. I know that if I do return I want to have something scheduled for South Charleston, perhaps at the library of maybe Miami View Elementary. I’d also like to visit my Shawnee High School in Springfield. Actually, I’d like to spend a few days in the area, connecting with some old friends and relatives. On the last trip I was able to meet up with two cousins, but the schedule was so tight that even that almost didn’t happen.
I realize that the world has grown older around me even if I refuse to accept that I’ve changed along with it. The potential I had at eighteen years of age when I went off to college has greatly diminished. I accomplished some of the things I set out to do, though. I have seen a lot of the world, places the average person from South Charleston, Ohio never has. I’ve lived here and there throughout the US. And I have friends around the country and around the world.
I guess I’d like to go back home to tell the people who live there, people I have never met (or the sons and daughters of people I grew up with), that as scary as the big bad world may seem there are enchanting places to see and wonderful people to meet. Most people are wonderful, you know – once you get to know them. Also, I’d tell them not to sell themselves short of the opportunity of stepping out and making a lasting mark. And, by all means, NEVER stop dreaming.
