I passed through my hometown of Lawrence, Massachusetts this past Sunday afternoon, returning home to Connecticut after a weekend visit with family and friends at Hampton Beach.
I strolled through the O’Connell South Common which, located two blocks down the street from the Market Street three-decker I grew up in, held many childhood memories such as feeding the squirrels with my grandfather, smoking Lark cigarettes filched from my grandmother’s pack with my friend Georgie under the slide, and sledding down the hill on chilly winter days with my sister and dad. So many memories.
I remember on a long ago Saturday afternoon, using the bathroom under the bandstand where I encountered a custodian watching wrestling (or perhaps it was candlepin bowling?) on a B&W TV in his small office in the Men’s Room. He seemed quite content passing the time in his subterranean porcelain fiefdom.
Can you ever go home again? I think if we’ve held on tight to the small and seemingly insignificant memories, perhaps we never left?