Hometown Sentiments

Last weekend we made our somewhat- traditional visit to our local town to see the light display at the courthouse and the Dickens Christmas displays along the streets -- or, as we say, we went to see the statues.... technically, I believe they are called mannequins. It made me start thinking about hometowns. 

Are you proud of your hometown? Where is your hometown? If you move, when does the town/area you move to become your hometown? According to the dictionary definition, it is possible for it to change locations: /ˈhōmˌtoun/: town of one's birth or early life or of one's present fixed residence.

I was born in the largest city in Stone County. Meaning, I was born in a little country town in the hills of Arkansas. But who wouldn't be proud of a hometown nicknamed the "Folk Music Capital Of The World"? Mountain View was a thriving tourist town, bolstered by its plethora of unique small shops, its festivals that drew crowds spring and fall and by the nearby Ozark Folk Center. 

                Mtn View Courthouse 

We local people would joke that festival time was not the time you wanted to go to town -- the crowds and the traffic made getting anywhere fast an impossibility -- but I have fond childhood memories of watching the parade during the spring Folk Festival. In my mind's eye I can still see the high school band, marching down the middle of main street, playing their music. The rows of horseback riders and the long line of antique cars were never the highlight, although there was lots of candy throwing. It was the floats built by local businesses and the school that were always the favorite. I'll never forget the one depicting preparing for a burial, and the oft repeated, "We're sad to see Aunt Maude go -- We picked the ticks off and washed twixt her toes!" 

I only attended the fall Bean Fest once, and that was after I was married. We didn't partake of the free beans and cornbread on the square but we did watch the famous outhouse races. Yep, you read that right. The outhouse races are a big deal! We still laugh about the poor people who thought they had a choice seat for the festivities but ended up not quite being in the front row after all. They weren't too happy about it and made sure everyone around them knew it. 

I thought about all of this Sunday night as we walked down the streets of Cambridge. Bundled in coats and boots and our hands tucked deep in warm pockets, we admired the lights and the statues and I pondered hometowns. Cambridge is a pretty cool little town, really; the kind that a person could be proud of. Would my children have the same sentiments toward it that I had for Mtn View? Actually, they probably won't. We're positioned squarely between a couple of towns that we visit about equally, so their experience is a little different. But,  I wondered, is that how my parents felt about Arkansas? After all, both of them were transplants from Indiana. In fact, they had only lived in Arkansas twelve years when I was born! Realizing that fact made me do a double take on the whole subject. In my mind, my parents were always Arkansas folks to the core. When did that happen?

The Christmas light show at the  Cambridge courthouse is a must see! It never disappoints. 

And a walk down Wheeling Avenue to see the characters in Dickens Victorian Village never gets old. 

    I like the one on the left in particular...

I realize that hometown sentiments aren't really that important. I could turn this into a convicting conversation about this world not being our home and Heaven being our real hometown but that's not really my point. The fact is, I don't really have a point, other than the whole subject being an interesting and rather intriguing one. 

Are you proud of your hometown? What are your hometown sentiments?