Late last year (which would be academic year, so spring) Mr. Big Food was invited to give the Annual Lecture at The Center. In Mr. Big Food’s world–well, you know, the one out there in the Big World as contrasted with his Little Country Mouse World here on The Farm–The Center is short for The Center for Philosophy of Science at the University of Pittsburgh. It’s a big deal.

After he received the invitation, he asked if I wanted to take the opportunity to visit the town in which I’d grown up. I am not really that guy. Mr. Big Food is. My brother is. My dad was. Me? It’s not as if I’ve never revisited places I’ve previously lived, it’s just not a priority. I hadn’t been back to this town in the 47 years since my family moved away. I’d spent from third to 11th grade there–so a big chunk of my young life.

Okay. Sure. It’s about an hour or so from Pittsburgh. We can rent a car at the airport and drive up there. Fall would be nice.

What did I want to see? More importantly, because Mr. Big Food is that kind of guy, what did I want to show him? The two houses in which my family lived. The high school. The church. The store. Maybe the reservoir if I can find it.

Driving into town, with a semi-constant late fall drizzle (in a rental car that had a mind of its own) it was amazing how my sense of place kicked in. I’d probably only had a driver’s license for a year before we moved, but still I had an intuitive sense of where we were coming into the downtown, where the places I want to see were located relative to one another. Fourty-seven years is a long time to keep long-term memories in storage. But there we were.

We got lucky at the store, but that’s another story. The church was easy to find, but was locked tight. So we employed the bang on the side door strategy. And sure enough someone came, I told my short story, and we were invited in.

Very little had changed. More photos of pastors in the hallway leading to the foyer. The balcony where the kids would hang out now has video equipment so is no longer open to kids. (Too bad) The sign has changed since the church is in a different synod. I may as well have been 15 again.

I was rather surprised that I was allowed to take photos of the sanctuary but times change.

We signed the guest book, and within a week got a nice little card in the mail.