Roots

At this moment I am sitting in beans&cream, the Columbus, Mississippi, answer to Starbucks. I have managed to connect to a wireless service, and am wondering which will run out first - my battery or this connection.

I am here visiting my 90-year-old father-in-law. We came down today for a quickie 24-hour visit to check on him. In the past 8 hours, I have heard more "yalls" than I do in months in Nashville.

Columbus is about 20-odd miles from the place I was born and spent the first 20 years of my life, Starkville. Since my parents have died, I don't get there much anymore. But once you get to this part of the South, most small towns have many of the same characteristics. Everyone knows everyone else, and knows a lot about each other's daily lives. You pretty much wave to everyone you pass. And if you need to see somebody, you pretty much will if you go to Wal-Mart.

It's good to go back home. You look around and wonder who you would be, had you stayed in town. You wonder how much you've really changed. You wonder either how you ever lived there, or why you ever left. You realize how much you've missed, and how much you've gained.

It's good to go home because you get a sense of where your life is now. You get a perspective because you can visualize your past more clearly. You remember who you were, and who you have become.

It's good to go back home, because you realize that's where you started being who you really are. Everything has to begin somewhere, and this is where you did. For me, it's a town in Mississippi. It gave me the roots to go the places I've gone, and for that, I am truly thankful.