SCRABBLE: Coming Home
I am awash with all those nostlgic feelings that are oh so familar when one returns home. Unlike so many others who ventured off to collage after high school or went off to the military or headed out to trek the world and explore, I was one who remined close to home, began a business and started a family All that kept me tied (by choice) to the city and county of my birth. I lived in Detroit and its environs for a half century before having the courage and circumstances align themselves in a way so I could give myself permission to break away.
At the time (November 1995). I heeded the words of Horace Greeley and headed West, I was already past mid-life and not really certain that I could handle being away. My head told me that there were always planes, trains, and automobiles available to scurry me back home to visit parents, children, and grandchildren. But you know how that goes . . .; at first one visits often, but then life happens and those visits become less frequent. Money become scarce and the visits diminish to a rare few on only very important ocassions. One develops new patterns and habits and people grow apart. Most the past remain the thread that continues to hold us together.
This weekend’s event was the thread that drew me back for this visit. My mom is celebrating 90 years; my sister turns 60 next week; my grandkids recently turned 11, 11, and 4 and if Auntie Annie had lived, she’d be 100.
From the moment the wheels of the plane touched down on Friday evening I was catapulted back from my warm, adventurous digs in southern California to ‘that was the life that was’ in a snowy Michigan winter. The only warmth here comes from mom and my siblings and my other family members. Last night mom and I stayed up til the wee hours of the morning telling stories, recalling scenes from the past, and laughing again at the good times and the silly times. The day was filled with visits from family and friends and dinner was a feast at a favorite, local eatery, Ginnopolis’. Today will be filled with more visits and a traditional Sunday brunch.
Scrabble family dymanics are very similar to that of our family of origin. We build relationships and history over time. And those of us who frequent clubs and tournaments think of opponents and scrabble friends as family. I feel oh so fortunate to have scrabble family from Maui to Michigan and from Cabo to California.
Going away is oh so much fun. . . . But nothing can beat coming home.