40 Going Home

As our facebook friend Paige laments being away from our little chunk of heaven, let us take a look at leaving.

If you are a native born pc'er(preston county--er)((yes, i prefer it to the term'prestonian')) or even if you grew up here and were not native, you know the pull that comes from this place. Should I define it? Can I? There was a bit of everything and nothing here. We made friends, the same as anyone else, anywhere else. We learned life lessons, laughed, loved and cried the same as anybody would. We saw birth and death, school days and work days, all come and go. So what is it? There is an air here, that you cant put a label on. A few of you had no love of this place, but it was very few. The rest of us have mostly left and came back or we pine for the land that has claimed a piece of our soul. A few have stayed here, not fighting the pull at all.

I know that some of you were meant to be city dwellers. You cant help it, you just werent made for the rural life. You may live in Morgantown, you may live in another city, but I hear your cries: You miss home. It's funny really--I say rural life--how do you define it? Rural to Morgantown is Kingwood, rural to Kingwood is Fellowsburg, rural to Fellowburg is Marquess.. get it? There is a pull from the city for some and I have felt a slight tug once in a while, then it passes. I know you can have any wish, any need fulfilled at almost any hour by a simple drive to the other side of town. Preston county came alive years ago when we got our first 24 hr gas station. 2 years ago we got -da da daaaaa--Wally world! Sam Wal, you are a man among men. So, you that went urban have your 24 lattes and round the clock Chinese food. We have gas, 6month old hotdogs and beer until 1am.

Those of us that stayed, can you tell me why? What was it? Dont say "family needed me" or " I didnt go to college" , that wont fly. I can only give you my tale: after the Army, I wanted to raise my kids here, in what some would consider "peace". I had a career waiting in a far-off city, but I felt a sort-of selfish longing to be among these hills. I knew that there would be some sacrifices, but they really dont matter. All that matters is the peace that was our home. There is great beauty here. Scenery that seems to pale or even disappear when you drive an hour or so in any direction. We have hills that stack one on top the other and hills that seem to be miles apart. The fields can be small, creek bottom farm-fields or they can stretch from hill to hill with about a million deer milling about when the sun goes down. Our river holds fond, high school memories and hot summer day longings. It calls to us and yet warns us: swim but remember the fallen. Some of us find solace fishing and watching the out-of-staters raft by while we laugh and wait for someone to fall in.

We have summer days that arent overly-hot and winters that are bitter, but if you go 30 miles in any direction, they dont seem as cold. We have more snow days for kids than any other county. The fall seems more crisp and more colorful than anywhere else and there is a lack of what I like to call "city smell" The air smells sweeter and there is something intangible about it that I just never experienced anywhere else. If you sit down on a porch in town, even the traffic doesnt sound like traffic elsewhere. It just seems....right. I used to joke that "they roll up the sidewalks around 8" . The worst part of this place for me are those damnable "hot spots" that have sprung up. Remember when the only 2 bars in city limits were the Eagles and Skippy's? You can still sit in your yard on a Sunday afternoon and it feels like the world is standing still.

Some days it feels like the world is passing me by here, but it feels good. I dont miss the world. When I do, I turn on the Today show or ESPN. We have die-hard Steeler fans and die-hard Steeler haters here, there are learned scholars and simple folks with simple tastes. I speak for the majority--We are always glad to help a stranger. Friends are people you bump into "in town" and you can always stop and talk for a second. We talk to the cashiers and call them by name without a nametag. Sometimes it's not good, but for the most part--everybody knows everybody. It's not a bad thing, some people just make it bad.

So when your heart starts longing for home and the stress of everyday life is piling up. Remember that home is where the heart is. Your family misses you and the hills are calling. Take a day. The world can wait. We work too much and we let stress rule us. Come back to where you started. This place that your parents chose to raise you. This place of broken, pothole filled roads, deer in the yards(and more than a few cars). Come back to people that will remember you and talk like it hasnt been 15 years. Come see us and sit on the porch. Smell the air. Listen . Do you hear that? ...the hills are calling your name. You should answer her, you should heed her call. The leaves are falling. The hills are weeping yellow and orange and red for you. The soft click and rustle as they reach the ground is yours and yours alone. Do you hear that? There's a chipmunk bolting full speed through the leaves, looking for a meal or maybe running from some unknown danger. In the distance, you can hear the power plant letting off steam in the morning, making a sea of fog down by the river. It is a blanket to smother the sounds of the morning down there, but it will be gone when the sun comes up. Come and sit with us for a while. Listen to the silence that you dont get in many places anymore. The hills are calling you-- "We'll be glad to see you !"" We miss you!" Come back for a visit when you can and leave your stress at the county line. Do you hear her? She's calling for you....