November 17, 1998
Putting Down Roots
They say that one of the effects about leaving home is that you lose it. Your ties to the past become less important the longer you live away from where you spent your previous life. Those of us who lived in the same town all our lives and finally move away have it hard. We go home for a while, and the people, the places, and everything else is the same, but different. We just don't fit in right.
So we lose home, but nature always balances herself. We gain something even more. Perhaps a little rule of weeding explains it best. When weeding, dig up the dirt around the roots and remove the plant in one big bundle. Don't yank it, for some roots will break off and remain in the ground for a new weed to grow from.
When we leave our home, no matter how hard we try, the break is not clean. We leave something behind. And it grows. The effect is strange. The fondest memories from our past, the roots left buried beneath the earth, grow unattended. Our lives don't shape them anymore. They grow wild, and as everyone knows, wildflowers are much more hearty than the cultivated varieties.
These new memories are stronger than any we have. When something triggers them, be it a smell or even a slight mentioning by a character in a movie, our heads are flooded with images and senses and everything. Our passions stir and we, if for but a moment, take pride in our wild roots back home.
I'm from Kentucky. . . Pewee Valley, Kentucky. I will always be from the state of bluegrass, horses, basketball, and endless redneck stereotypes. I'm proud of that. I'm a Kentuckian.