When my dad was nine years old, his family moved from a small town in Pennsylvania to a new home in the bustling city of Cleveland. Unbeknownst to him at the time, his beautiful future wife lived just a few blocks away. Several years went by before their paths eventually crossed. Since that fateful day, they have rarely been apart. After tying the knot and having two children, they made the shocking decision to abandon their city lives for a quieter, more peaceful existence back in rural Pennsylvania. Particularly shocking for my mother who had never lived beyond the city limits and we're not talking about simply sliding over into suburbia. This was straight up farm country and this is where I was born. In fact, you can recognize this in my writing because occasionally I will omit the normally necessary helping verb "to be" as it is completely optional in that part of the country. (i.e. The cow needs milked.) Grammatical glitch aside, for most of my life, I was furious at my parents for relocating our family to the middle of nowhere without asking me first. I am aware that it happened five years before my birth, but still, I felt strongly that they should have waited for my input.
As soon as I was old enough, I escaped this funless farmtown to seek out the more fabulous places in the world. I thought I was finally free from its clutches, until one day while standing on the cobblestones of a random street in Paris, I realized that I actually missed home. From that moment forward, all of my parent's choices began to make more sense. Well, technically not ALL of them. I think I am comfortable saying MOST of them, and definitely the ones related to our rural relocation. 101 Days of Sunshine is a collection of tales about our loves, our lives and our adventures, because if you don't take the time to share your family stories, people will forget them. As an extra bonus, I'll even include some of our crazy, but not too much, especially if it involves me. Finally, all material contained within this blog including the fairly true personal accounts, the mostly unbiased opinions, and the flashy little photos belong to me, the partially-reformed bratty youngest. I hope it brings a bit of sunshine into your life and inspires you to take a moment to share at least one of your family stories with someone else.
P.S. Despite the fact that I have lived in New York for the last ten years, I would never, ever even consider referring to myself as a New Yorker. Nothing against New York, but I will always be a proud Pennsylvanian, who happens to reside in New York along with my husband and my dog. Both of them also happen to be imported from the great state of PA. As for our sweet NY born son? I sure hope he doesn't hate us forever because we left Pennsylvania eight years before he was born.
P.S.S.
Dear Mom & Dad,
Sorry it took me 20 years of being an ungrateful brat to realize that you were right all along. I love the place where I grew up and I love the two of you even more.
XOXO,
Kar
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