Nothing to say

Well, maybe I have a little something to say. After all, spring has sprung here in our neck of the woods and although it might not feel like it just yet, I know warmer weather is just around the corner!

These northeast winters didn’t used to bother me as much when I was in my 30s and 40s. But when I hit 50 the cold and snow began a vicious attack on my well being, physically and mentally. I’ve mentioned selling the farm (i.e. six acres) and moving to a warmer clime, but it hasn’t went over very well, yet.

I used to think moving back home to Kentucky would be nice. But Old Man Winter visits that state too, and I’m beginning to think that in order to get out of his reach I’ll have to relocate further south, much further south.

I still call Kentucky home, but I’ve actually lived here in Pennsylvania longer. I guess it must have something to do with the state you were born in rather than the length of time you lived there. Pennsylvania has never felt like home to me because it’s not where I was rooted.

Folks will often combine the two states and it becomes Pennsyltucky. I cringe when I hear it. The only thing the two states have in common is they’re both commonwealths. Maybe one other thing – pretty countryside, in places. I think Kentucky’s hills have more of a pronounced “roll” to them, whereas Pennsylvania’s are higher and steeper.

I haven’t read Thomas Wolfe’s novel You Can’t Go Home Again but I probably won’t let what that title means convince me that it’s true. I’ll return to my past in Kentucky one of these days and we’ll have a long talk about the rest of my future.

Here’s an old Kentucky photo of my father and his band. That’s him on the left, standing with his guitar.

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