Last week we made a trip to Western Pennsylvania. Although I spent my adolescence there, I hadn't visited in close to ten years. It was an emotional trip, since we were helping my mom pack up her belongings for a move to Virginia.
Living in an urban area, it's common to hear people talk negatively about rural communities. But I believe that you should pay homage to your roots. The places that you've lived shape you. Even when you are not there, you bear the imprint of them on your inner being and, as such, they should be cherished.
Before we got to my mom's house, we stopped to have dinner with our friends Vince and Becky in Johnstown, PA at the City View Bar & Grill at the Inclined Plane. The view of that humble city in the valley brought back such a rush of memories for me as I stared pensively out the window.
I've spent a lot of time in Johnstown. Both good times and bad. I played bantam hockey at the War Memorial for "Coach Barry." Recovered for weeks in the hospital with severe head trauma from an auto accident (I can still recall the nurse, Kathy, who was so nice to me-- and my doctor who called me his "little girl."). Kissed my first boyfriend at the top of this same Inclined Plane. It struck me that who we are is not an amalgam of our possessions or even our accomplishments. Our worth can be measured by the depth of relationships we've had, both past and present, and how we honor them.
So this place is not a rustic throwback to me. It's a wonderful piece of my soul. I think I've been away too long.
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