Just back from a quick trip to NY again, trying to fit it in before the summer fills up. Funny how a trip back to your chilchood town can be both something you look forward to and resist doing. How is it possible to be both? Perhaps it is the childhood memories, or the changes or even the loss of part of your life. Whatever it is, returning home is always fraught with a mix of emotions. Maybe if you never move out of you hometown this isn’t an issue. Anyone in that group want to comment? For me it is no longer “home”, but a place I lived decades ago where some family still lives. It gives me a melancholy feeling I find hard to shake. Which is better than feelings of anger that some people have when they visit thier hometowns! Part of me is intrigued by those who stay in their hometown and know everyone, and the ins and outs, and part of me knows I would be suffocated by the weight of the legacy of that. So, for me visiting is the best of both worlds because it keeps it fresh when I visit.