You Really Can’t Go Home
If home never wanted you in the first place. Sometimes that’s a good thing.
Fellow Crow’s Feet writer Ruby Lee penned a piece about high school reunions the other day. Got me thinking. Her 45th is right around the corner. My 50th is this year. Big one. Very Big One.
Go? Or not to go?
As with all things, it depends. It depends on what group you inhabited, if any group at all, and whether, in those formative years, you felt included. Which would dictate, at least in part, whether or not a reunion actually felt like a reunion rather than dipping yourself right back into the boiling oil of adolescent angst.
Here’s her piece:
I’m a Central Florida girl, born and raised. BUT- to civil rights leaning, well-educated Northern parents. I grew up in citrus country. Rich families had orange groves that stretched for miles, including some which wrapped around the northern part of our farm, situated on Deer Lake. Winter Haven was the Land of Lakes, its jewel Cypress Gardens, water skiing capital of the…
