Homecoming

Homecoming. Interesting word. My American Heritage Dictionary describes it as 1. 'a coming to or returning home.' 2.'In colleges and universities, an annual event for visiting alumni.'

From my house I can hear the high school marching band practicing outside. Through the open windows I can smell the sweet breeze of brown fallen leaves and the rustling in the trees. My eldest is now a senior in high school and my baby is now a freshman. My senior had never played high school football, so his dad and I hadn't considered attending a football game, even though we knew a few of the boys his age that played on the team. Tomorrow night is their homecoming football game against their rival city high school team. It will be my first local football game and I am excited.

This town is now my 'home'. After living here the longest than anywhere else, I feel my roots extending deep into the history and presence of what is Apple Valley. We bought our home 18 years ago in a modest neighborhood where we intended to raise our family. Growing up, my parents moved a total of 11 times that I can remember, dotting the southeastern towns of South Dakota. My dad was a WWII vet and retired feeder pig dealer, my mom a homemaker. They rented homes and even tried owning and managing a motel. But about every 1-2 years they felt unsettled, so they lifted our roots once again to plant them elsewhere.

When I was 11 years old they bought an acreage 7 miles from a small farm town of about 200 people. I was in 6th grade. I came from a nice town with many friendships and landed in the country surrounded by farms, hay bales, and dirt roads. Our house was over 100 years old with a musty cellar basement with a dirt floor, and an unheated upstairs. I was angry, indignant, and just royally pissed off at my parents. Why did they bring me to this place in the sticks? It seemed like the land that time forgot and the kids all wore jeans and t-shirts. Whether I liked it or not, this was my home. At least for the next 6 years.

Yes, I eventually made friends with the locals. Slumber parties, sports, cheerleading, riding in cars with boys, homecoming week, with theme days: Hat day, inside out day, punk day (this was the 80's, mind you), bonfire pep rally, marching band, football game. We had it all, and with a small high school of only about 40 kids, we had to DO it all. We were involved.

Homecoming. Was this home to me yet? Did I really fit in? Did they accept me as one of their own? Homecoming coronation. I had 6 other classmates. Five boys and 2 girls. We were all nominated to say the least. My fellow girl classmate was born and raised nearby, and in a town that small, everyone is related to everyone in one way or another. You're a cousin, or your sister married her brother, or your parents are cousins. I was the 'outsider'. I didn't 'belong'. Not only that, but my parents 'didn't belong'. My sister 'didn't belong'. We didn't have family ties there. We weren't born or raised there. I was different. I liked popular pop, rock, and disco music. They liked country. I liked the clothes that were popular in magazines and tv. They liked their jeans and tennis shoes. I was constantly reminded that I 'wasn't here when that happened', when she wet her pants in 4th grade, or when he was held back in 5th grade, or when their uncle died, or when they got married. Oh ya, 'you weren't here then.' 'You wouldn't know, you aren't related.'

Homecoming. Interesting word. I walked in the procession to the stage in my pink satiny dress with the lace bodice. My hair curled like Farah Fawcetts. As the 7 of us stood on that stage, the reigning Queen took her crown and walked back and forth, finally placing the crown on my classmates head. Not on mine. The reality of that move made it all so real to me. I didn't belong. This was not my home. I didn't have a right to claim a stake here. She deserved it. I'm sure there were other factors involved in the deciding votes. Was I everyones friend? Did I make the time to forge new friendships? Was I involved enough in school activities. I humbly accepted my label. Second place. Runner-up. On with the homecoming festivities.

Resentment? Maybe just a little. Forgiveness and grace? Alot. I eventually dated and married my high school sweetheart. I have tenure now. I am one of 'them'. Not only that, but 25 years ago I claimed the title Valedictorian of my class. Even if it is only #1 out of 7. I staked my claim. I now call Canova my original 'home'. My alma mater is there, my home church is there that I was confirmed, married, and baptized our babies in. My extended family of in-laws are there. I even designed the town Centennial logo and claimed my local fame. Who knows, I may even be buried there. Yes, it is my hometown.

I hope my sons feel deep roots here in Apple Valley. They attended schools here from preschool, to grade school, to middle school, and now high school. I wanted my sons to feel grounded, to feel like they belonged. I wanted them to feel confident, assured, and accepted here. They have made lasting memories here. Friends, sports, overnighters, garage bands, backyard bonfires, football games. Even if their class has 500 students and their high school has over 2,000. This is their home.

Homecoming? Depends on what you call home. What's yours?