Spring Grove – Disney Creativity and Innovation Keynote Speaker

Spring Grove homes

small town row homes — Main Street, across from the tiny Catholic Church and the tiny Ford Car & Truck Dealership. This is where my Grandparents lived their lives. Their home was the one with the double step protruding onto the sidewalk (middle of photo).

Never dreamed of a life in Spring Grove, so there was never, “Where would i like to settle down and live?”

Literally, no idea where i would have lived or what i would have lived in.

Fall 1977 went to West Chester State College 80-miles east, near Philadelphia. From that point on, spent the first two college summers living at home because of the great paying summer job at ‘The Mill’.

1979 was the last year i lived in Pennsylvania. So at 21, i was exploring the Country as a free spirit.

• • • • •

This website is about our HOME. This is the fifth of five daily, differently-themed blog posts about: (1) mind, (2) body, (3) spirit, (4) work, (5) home. To return to Mid Life Celebration, the site about MIND, click here.

Avoiding home trauma

Spring Grove, PA — The apartment complex is just on the right.

Spring Grove, PA Cemetary — My Dad’s (and stepmom’s) headstone.

The most organized people are the ones who are irrationally passionate about being organized.

Disorganized people (i was one) claim being organized is too difficult. Having been disorganized and organized, i have found that the effort is similar but the hope and freedom are polar opposites.

To be disorganized, for them, would be trauma to their home.

• • • • •

This website is about our home health. To leave this site to read today’s post on my mental attitude website, click here.

If you want to stay on this site and read more posts from this Blog, click here.

I Am Jack’s Boy

We are all we think we are. And we are none of it.

Shortly after my Dad’s passing ten years ago, I had many thoughts about life. Typical thoughts, I guess. The ones we all have.

Whenever I return home to Spring Grove, Pennsylvania, and people in their late 60’s and early 70’s especially, remember my Dad, I smile.

He was a drummer. A really good one. He played at their weddings, dances and other social functions. He taught some of their kids drum lessons. He worked beside many of them at “The Mill”, for 38 years, until early on-set, rapid progression Alzheimer’s disease forced early retirement.

Those small town folk remember my Dad, but they don’t know my name.

They just refer to me as, Jack’s boy.

When you go home, who are you?