No place like home

Pulled out of the driveway in a bad mood.

It was 9,000 degrees outside, my stomach hurt, and if I had my way I'd probably have curled up on the couch with the mystery I'd checked out of the Halls Branch Library earlier today.

But, I had work to do. National Night Out at Stewart Ridge subdivision. It's a livin'.

I was still grumbling, mostly wishing I was sitting in the sand somewhere on Maui, when I got out of the car and broke out into a big grin. There sat Faye Heydasch, one of my second grade teachers.

Here came Maggie Meyers, who went to school with me, her young son in tow. I smiled and marveled for the millionth time that my contemporaries are old enough to have kids.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Jim McManus sitting in the shade, making a Popsicle disappear.

"You're getting married?" he exclaimed. "Congratulations! It will make a better man out of ya."

Jim said he really appreciated the fact that the Shopper came out to Stewart Ridge to cover the event.

"This is what I like reading about," he said. "My friends and neighbors and what's going on in the community."

We talked awhile, about the lack of mass transit in the county, about the fact that his grandfather worked on the so-called Dummy Line, the electric trolley that used to ferry folks from Fountain City to downtown. We talked about the weather and the World's Fair and the way the stores have left the 'burbs.

"But regardless of everything, this is still the best place in the county to live and raise a family," Jim said.

I blabbed for a few more minutes and finally made my way to dinner. Coming back up Cunningham Road, seeing the sun slip toward its slumber, I realized Jim was right. I guess the famous line from that corny film is true after all.

Wherever ye may roam, there's no place like home.