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“There’s no place like home.”

“You can’t go home again.”

Hmmmm. Which is it? Or, if not black and white, perhaps it’s a combination of the two.

Someone invited me to be a part of a Facebook group about my hometown late last week. Most of the participants (so far, anyway) appear to range from maybe 10 years younger than me to somewhere north (some well north!) of my graduating class. So I guess that qualifies us all as – ahem – somewhat seasoned.

It’s been fun to see the posts over the weekend…so much nostalgia. Stores that used to be in town, teachers we had in common, things that occured over the years….

It’s been 17 years since I moved away from Illinois (kicking and screaming, I might add). Since I still have family in the area, I get back occasionally, and when I’m there, I always try to make a stop in Barrington – my hometown.

So much time has passed. So many people are gone – like my folks, who have both passed on.

Is Barrington still home? Yes – and no.

Because I still have many friends at the church┬áto which I belonged from birth until I moved away, it’s still a place in which I feel grounded – by extension, Barrington still seems very near. If not for that, I don’t know that I’d feel the same way.

It was a wonderful place to grow up, though, and I have many good memories that will last a lifetime.

Middle School German Class

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