September 24, 2016


Someone once noted that “human beings are the only creatures that allow their children to come back home” (I think it was Bill Cosby — OUCH!). Thomas Wolfe allowed that, even when we can’t go home again, we can Look Homeward, Angel, or at least read about going home. So acting upon these sentiments and declarations and modus operandi and recalling that the last allowance my mother gave me amounted to about 75¢, and that was more than 50 years ago, I’ve started this blog to indulge myself with the human right and wrong of an allowance to go home — again and again and again. You’ll get the idea, because here you’ll find my erstwhile home as I find it in the family stories I remember or, at least, imagine that I remember. Children are, of course, allowed, but only if they can read or be read to and recall, as Dorothy Gale does in The Wizard of Oz, that “there’s no place like home.”