When I first moved to Greensboro Maryland, almost twenty five years ago, we had a hardware store on Main street. It was owned by a Mr. Butler and was a favorite place of mine. Now it didn’t remain open long enough for me to become a part of that “family” of customers that all such hometown businesses eventually create.

Mr. Butler, whatever his reasons where closed up shop just a few years later. I remember buying house paint from him when it was on sale. I had purchased what I thought would be enough to get the job done. Turned out I was one gallon short. I went back to the store to get another gallon. By that time the paint was no longer on sale. I asked for another gallon and he remembered me and the color of that paint. He also said, I’ll give it you at the sale price. It was a small gesture and one I haven’t forgotten all these years later. That’s hometown service.

That building is now the local pharmacy. I’m pleased to say it is locally owned, no chain pharmacy. It may be associated with EPIC pharmacies officially speaking but it sure feels like the hometown drug store I grew up with. I know the pharmacist personally, a knowledgeable and concerned individual that does care about the community. The help seems to change often but that seems to be a trend these days everywhere. I blame that on this modern notion of “moving on up” and leaving town. My Aunt worked on main street for over fifty years and an article in the local newspaper honored her for that. She was certainly known by a lot of people.

I do miss that hardware store. I loved the creaking of the wooden floor, the bins filled with all that hardware stuff. It had obviously been there many years before my arrival. The whole store just had that feel to it, somehow familiar and inviting. You could walk in and start looking around with no one rushing to meet you. You certainly didn’t feel watched! Mr. Butler was usually in the store with his help. They would happily answer any questions you had, offer advice if you asked for it, and make you feel important to them. You felt free to just hang around if you wanted to. You would be included. I’d say it had a Norman Rockwell feel to it. A feeling of being home.

All of that is mostly gone now, the pharmacy being the last bastion of that here in Greensboro. I’m not certain how much longer that will last, even I get my prescriptions filled through a mail order service because it is cheaper. I am forced to be cost conscious. I do go there for other everyday needs and the store also sells novelties, home decor items, cards and seasonal items. It is a nice place to just browse and no one will follow you around. I like that feeling of trust.

All things change over time, I get that. My hometown has disappeared as far I’m concerned. I left there about fifty years ago. I see images on Facebook about that place and don’t recognize many of them. There are a few left, at least that is what I’m told by some old classmates that still live there. But the town has changed. That town is East Hampton, yes The Hamptons, as I hear it called all the time these days, you can even win a trip to the fabulous Hamptons on the Price is Right. Changed? You bet it has and not for the better is my thought. But for those still living there it is home and I get that. Sometimes I’m even a little jealous of that.

I think all of us, as we age, start looking for the feeling of home. It isn’t anything that can be purchased, it is something that has to be found. Now given enough money and resources you can keep yourself distracted. Still, in the evening when it is quiet those thoughts return. What we call nostalgia, that wishful longing for the past. It can return in the most unexpected ways at times. The creak of a wooden floor, a certain smell, or the smallest item.

The feeling of home. Poets have tried for centuries to describe that. Books have been written and songs composed. Home is where the heart is, Home Sweet Home and there’s no place like home. It’s a feeling; indescribable and powerful. The strangest thing is you can find home in the most unexpected places. When that happens you get to visit, if only for moment. Home is when you feel you belong to the larger family we call community. That’s home.

Made this replica of the fireplace that was in my home. I go there occasionally.