My dad called me yesterday. He is staying with some friends in West Virginia. When I think of West Virginia, I smile as I remember my childhood home. I grew up in Cross Lanes, West Virginia which is just outside of Charleston, the state capital. It is called Cross Lanes in that the town just has 1 stop light and that is where the 2 roads (or lanes) cross. I remember sledding down our back yard hill and intertubing down Harmon's hill; jogging to the end of the street and back (4 times was a mile) with our dog, Precious; shooting hoops on the goal in the driveway; bringing firewood in from the front porch so we could have a fire in the fireplace and roast hot dogs and marshmallows; playing hide and seek, rundown, kick the can, kickball and running relay races around the house; walking to 7-11, elementary school, and church; praying up Monta Vista Drive (in our 15-passenger van) when it was covered in snow and ice; singing Christmas carols in the Kroger parking lot; covered dish dinners at church; hearing the dinner bell ring when it was time to come home for lunch or dinner; being greeted by our dogs, Precious and Abby, when I returned home from school. To borrow from John Denver, "Life is old there, older than the trees, younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze. . .country roads, take me home, to the place, I belong. . .West Virginia, Mountain Mama, take me home, those country roads" There were no privacy fences. The town was our playground. We explored through the woods to other neighborhoods, visited friends, and came home before dark. We chased lightning bugs, put them in a jar and let 'em go; we played outside barefoot--no red ants there; we loved snow days and summer days. I remember early morning swim team practice and evening softball practice, cheerleading camp and Bluestone church camp. My heroes as a kid were of course, mom, Mr. Miles, Mrs. Crum, Jeff Pratt, Joni Purviss, Denzil and Elaine, Lew and Jane, Wayne and Cindy, Greg and Anita, Dana and Jana, Mr. Marshall, Cathy Sepko, Jimmy Keagan, Mr. and Mrs. Crewdson. The list goes on. I didn't have to look far to find someone who cared about me. We knew everyone. They knew us.

My mom while visiting there this trip, went to the local pool, where we all swam as kids. She went there to see if Marian's freestyle pool record was still up on the board. It seems as if her record was broken in 2005--quite a long time for a record. I am uncertain of when she set the record, probably mid-eighties. She could tell you for sure. While she was there, she ran into an old friend of mine who recognized her. Amazing. . .we haven't lived there since 1987 and people still know us there. There's something about that that makes me leap for joy and scream "Wahoo!!" I do love West Virginia.