Over the river and though the woods

I went for a walk around town and photographed my nostalgia.

Jan 06, 2024

I’ve heard that nostalgia is dangerous because it’s a form of escapism. If there’s anything I’ve learned in therapy, you need to live in the present, in the here and now. Yet, I find it hard not to be nostalgic around the holidays. Part of it stems from the fact that Adam and I do not have children, so we have not created new holiday traditions. The other reason why I am nostalgic is because I return home every Christmas.

There’s a well-known expression, “You can’t go home again.” I believe in this phrase because no two moments in life are the same. Yet I’ve found year after year that I can go home again because my parents still live in my childhood home (48 years running!) in the same small rural town of 600 people. Although some of this place has changed, much of it has remained the same.

I grew up near these train tracks and have learned to completely tune out train horns.

Substack has inspired me to tell my story to have people see what I see. I knew I wanted to write about my hometown because my story is forever woven with this place.

Norway is known for baseball. It may not be well known outside of the area, let alone Iowa, but it was a good enough story to have a movie made about it. Baseball is born and bred in our small town. The local high school won twenty state baseball championships between 1960 and 1991. Since I left town eighteen years ago, they’ve added a baseball museum, extra baseball touches, and murals.

Norway might be a little old and banged up, but this ball field is showered with love and maintenance.

The same youth ball field structures. I played softball one season and realized I had no hand-eye coordination.

The baseball museum, front and center along Railroad Street.

Adults still play “town team” ball during the summer. More than once, I’ve arrived at the house, asked where dad was, and was told “he’s at the field.” There still a bit of excitement when driving there, buying a bag of popcorn, and watching a game with dad.

Though I no longer believe in organized religion, I am still drawn to the architectural features of churches. I attended St. Michael’s, which is surprisingly a gorgeous little building. I had to run an errand to the church, so I took a moment to look around at the beautiful details.

The view through the front doors. All that is missing is Christmas snow

The light peeking from the lobby through the chapel

This was “our pew” growing up. I’ve stared at this window during many a homily

Snuck into the steeple - I’ve never seen this part of the church before! The steeple was rebuilt after the **derecho in 2020**

You know you’re almost home when you see the steeple in the distance

Walking around the elementary school is a little surreal because some of the equipment from when I went to school (grades K-6) is still there. I’ve always loved school (hello, teaching for seventeen years) and have fond memories from this building with my 19 other classmates.

I forgot about this fence until I walked by it. Had a flashback to when I forgot my snow boots. Stuck on the blacktop for all of recess…

I’m 75% sure these swings are at least 35 years old.

I’m 100% sure this is the original merry-go-round from the city park.

There is still charm to this small town, and I love to visit every year. I am drawn to Iowa and still call it home.

My favorite little house in town. There’s not another house like it.

The ol’ water tower - still the same color.

Despite the nostalgia and longing, I no longer want to live here. Sometimes, I no longer recognize where I’m from and am horrified at what it’s become. I fled eighteen years ago instead of staying and fighting for what I believe in.