A trip back to my hometown of
Thomasville, Missouri is always a bittersweet trip down memory lane.  The town almost seems frozen in
time.  I was born here, and although
my Dad’s Navy career took us far and wide, this is where we came when we “went
home”.  During at least one of my
Dad’s deployments I lived and went to school here.

 It was here that hubby and I
decided to take our relationship to “the next level”.  The newly engaged couple posed in front of my grandparents’

And again, 38 years later:


The house where I was born
has changed:


But the gas station where my
grandpa would take us for a “pop” looks much the same, right down to the bench
out front where the old timers would spit and whittle:


The post office has long been
closed when the postal service decided the town was too small and took away its
zip code:


My grandparents’ house (where
our photos were taken) has changed little, except for the trees that have grown
so large.


Sadly, my parents’ house has
changed since the demise of the grand old tree out front:


Although my parents moved to
this house only 30 years ago, it is still the home where I brought my children
to introduce them to Thomasville.

While here we have dined
royally.  For a town of only 70
(give or take a few), Thomasville boasts one of the finest restaurants around,
The River’s Edge Grill. 


Here you can feast on catfish
and hushpuppies, slaw, beans and a fine sirloin steak.  If you want a table on Friday night,
you’d better get there early because people come from far and wide, including
real honest-to-goodness cowboys. 
They told my mom she couldn’t sit in the cowboy section unless she has
boots, so she keeps threatening to get some.

Yesterday, after visiting an old grain mill, we went to the big
city of Birch Tree (pop. 700), my Dad’s home town, for the annual Logging Days
celebration.  There we feasted on
deep fried pickles (actually quite good!) and the absolutely best pulled pork
sandwich and baked beans I have ever had.



Today we embarked on the next
leg of our journey, beginning with the National Quilt Museum in Paducah,
Kentucky.  Sadly, no pictures were allowed in the museum, but suffice it to say I was appropriately gobsmacked.  I was alternately inspired and determined never to touch a quilting needle again, as I am not worthy!  But I got over the not worthy part and while Bill is happily ensconced in the hotel with air conditioning, cable TV, internet and free snacks, I'm off to the Holy Grail – Hancock's of Paducah!  Yahoo!!!



4 thoughts on “Nostalgia

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