Home is where the heart is.

The other day, well today actually , I received an email from a friend and in it he was explaining to me where his home was located and the layout of his home.  He also said it was in the ghetto, but he was happy there.  I told him that home is where the heart is and that got me to thinking.  Where is my heart?  Where is the one place that is my sanctuary, that I feel safe and loved and wanted?  After much soul searching, I know.

Where I am now is a very nice house and I have an acre of land.  Not big enough for anything, but a little too big for nothing.  This house is solid, warm in the winter and cool in the summer.  I am located so I get very little traffic and it is quiet.  No one comes here unless I draw them a map and then they get lost.  I am almost secluded, but the neighbors know I am here and watch out for me.  That is good.  But where is my heart?

It is in Nickerson, Kansas at 709 Strong Street.  That was my ghetto; my wrong side of the tracks. It did not have running water.  We heated with a wood stove and cooked on a wood stove in the kitchen.  The out house was on the back of the lot.  Sears catalog and the whole bit.  Those were just the times.  I think we were the only street in town that was that far back in time, but there you have it.  Now you may ask why anyone in their right mind would go back to a hovel like that and I am here to tell you.

We were all there together.  Momma cleaned houses and put food on the table.  Cereal was cheap back then and we ate a lot of that and other grains.  Apples and Carp (You know that bony trash fish that other people throw away.)  We had fried apples, baked apples, boiled apples, apple sauce and I do not to this day eat a cooked apple in any way shape or form.  Don't eat Carp either.  Those are nasty!  Dad was there in his own little way.  He share cropped with a farmer and he was one of the last to give up the team of horses (and only then because they died of old age ) and never bought a tractor.

My baby sister Dorothy was there with her big brown eyes and dimples.  Mary was there with her long beautiful hair and her petite little body.  Donna was the serious one who ate the middle out of the loaf of bread after school.  My brother Jake was there and had not gone to the Army yet which he did by altering  his birth certificate at the age of  16.  Josephine had not eloped  yet. 

We had clod fights.  We walked to the sand pit.  I fished off the Bull Creek bridge while Jake and his buddies swam naked in a hole a little further upstream.  We had two creeks in Nickerson, Bull Creek and Cow Creek.  Also had the Arkansas River.  Every spring they flooded and isolated the town.  In the winter the Arkansas froze and had to be dynamited.  Old Black Joe lived on the river in a pile of lumber and made silver jewelry with turquoise stones and he was Jake's friend.  Momma was mortified to find out Jake hung out with the likes of him.  He died on the river.
We never had a dog.  Never had a cat.  Jake and I listened to the Grand Ole Opry on the car radio because the radio in the kitchen would not pick it up.  WSM in Nashville as I recall.  We had electricity eventually and got a pump in the kitchen.  The out house remained.  I attended Elementary school in Nickerson and went to 2 1/2 years of high school there. Came back to there after living with my Grandma my first  half of my Freshman year.  Smoked my first cigarette there.  Learned about God and salvation there.  Forgot about it there. Won a three speed English racing bike there by getting the most "Our Family" labels off of canned goods.  Flew my kite into a tree at the cemetery and could not get it down.  Watered the sweet potatoes and a spider got on my foot.  Momma had her hysterectomy there when I was in the seventh grade. 

The Reinke girls lived next door with their dad because their mom had died when the youngest was born.  I was glad my momma was still alive.  If we wanted ice for the ice box we had a card to put in the window with how much we wanted right side up.  All the doors used a skeleton key and you didn't lock the door because everybody had a skeleton key.  Whittling  Joe and Johnny Carson lived up on the highway and they let the chickens come in there house. Pop was a nickle and that was a lot of money. Ora Ayers rode her stick horse because she wasn't quite right in the head.  And we better be good cause the Gypsy's were camped outside of town and might come steal us.  We were poor, but poor was a state of mind.  There were people who had less then us

When I can not sleep, I walk the streets of Nickerson, Kansas.  I pass the feed store, the grocery store, the church and I say my prayers and fall into the most blissful sleep.

So my memories go on and on.  My ghetto lives in my heart and mind and everything I am today and will be in the future is because I was there and it impacts me forever.  So find your ghetto, or grotto, or wherever your safe place is and hang on to it with both hands.  It is your heritage.  It is your lifeline.  When life is stripped away and I stand before my maker, I know he will see a skinny knock kneed little girl with tangled hair and dirty bare feet and he will say, "Get in here you little urchin!  I been waiting for you to get home!"
And I will waltz in those pearly gates and up those streets of gold just like I belonged there.  Nickerson, Kansas is a state of mind!