Home is Where the Heart Is. tponetom
Home Is Where the Heart Is.,, Tponetom
I am celebrating my Second anniversary as a Detroit Forum Member
In June, 2007, I was meandering around the Web with nothing particular in mind. I had accessed The Ruins of Detroit a number of times previously, never even thinking of such a thing as the ‘Forum’. But this time I groped my way through the Table of Contents and came to find this most fascinating site, Detroit, Yes!
For a couple of days I read many of the posts. My first impression was that the Forum was comprised of many young people, simply bantering back and forth. Hmm, not my bag. But then I noticed references to earlier dates, [[60's, 70's,) and grandchildren, and other historical data. [[A little play on words there: grandchildren + historical = Grandparents!) Or is it hysterical?
So I mused for a awhile and then I mused some more and than I amused myself by wondering if there were any Grandparents in the Forum, like me, or a resident Great-Gand Parent, also like me
Then I stumbled across a post from a member who’s user name suggested that he/she [[?) may have been born in 1936. I will protect the identity of that member by not divulging the full user name. The die was cast. That person was in his\her seventies and so was I. So I said to myself, "Let the hide go with the hair."
I enlisted, not with trepidation, but rather with anticipation. I knew what I was going to write about. One of the things I knew best:
THE CITY OF DETROIT! When it was, indeed, on the sunny side of the street.
That is the side that few, if any, members have ever seen. Their parents and grandparents may well remember it, but there are two extreme views.
As an adult, I would want to wipe my memory clean and never again think about those years.
As a child, WOW! What excitement, what diversity, what discoveries, what pleasures.
I know that I am redundant. Also, silly, sentimental, and funny sometimes. Unless I state otherwise, like in, ‘once upon a time,’ I try to be scrupulously truthful.
[[My love affair with a younger woman continues, unabated.)
That brings us around to the title of this effort: "Home is Where the Heart Is." I thought about using, "Wearing Your Heart on Your Sleeve!" Either title complements the other.
I was an adolescent child: bashful, reluctant to respond, fearful of exposure, clinging to the parents. [[What other kind of child is there?)
Then, the teenager: angst, angst and more angst as the real world begins to penetrate my ‘id’.
The young adult: trying to swagger his way to the top, without the necessary mental ammunition.
Then, the middle-ager: with wizened wrinkles, trying to compare his lifetime achievements to whatever he considered to be, the "norm."
After forty odd years of speculation, I decided on radical, transferable surgery. My poor old heart was jammed in between my lungs and some rib bones and had barely enough space to expand and contract. My doctor was the only one that ever listened to it.
With a whole lot of whimsy, and really no regrets, I decided to hang my heart on my sleeve, and let anyone who cared to, listen to it.
And then along came Detroit, Yes! A perfect venue to vent my experiences of yesteryear. So I write, enthusiastically and unabashedly, mostly about my youth.
Peggy and I have been extremely fortunate to pursue the life we have had since the early 1970's. The stories of those years are of a more different bent. Like walking through a forest, and getting a little tired, and plunking yourself down on the ground, and NOT noticing that you sat down on a ‘beefsteak’ mushroom and,,,,,,,,well, I think that there are too many young people who might read this and get the wrong impression. [[A little word play between "beefsteak and impression." Oh well, maybe another time.
So, thank you, Detroit, Yes, and a thank you to the members therein.
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