I guess the inevitable question is: how can you never go home again when your home moved every couple of months?
Technically, I was born on Long Island and lived a good chunk of my childhood there, but in fact I never had much of an opportunity to call any place "home." From kindergarten through seventh grade I attended no fewer than six schools. Three years in a row (5th, 6th, and 7th grades), I attended two schools - in three states - for various reasons. Life happens.
Tori and I are flying out this morning to Kansas City, where I spent a chunk of my childhood. We're headed there because my wife is a fantastic person - she surprised me for my 40th birthday with tickets to see the Chiefs - my NFL football team from childhood - play. I had never seen them play outside of a TV screen, so this will be an exciting time for me. It also offers the opportunity to drop by the old neighborhood (technically, I had five "old neighborhoods" within the metropolitan area, but I resided in this particular neighborhood longer than the others, about three years) and grab some good barbeque.
What's really strange is where we'll be staying for the next three nights - the Hyatt Regency Crown Center, once the Hyatt Regency, site of the horrific walkway collapse nearly thirty years ago. My mother, an X-ray technician, was one of hundreds of hospital employees who worked five straight double shifts witnessing what tons of concrete and steel can inflict on a human body. It's obviously all fixed now, so I'm not worried about a repeat, but it's odd staying at a place that caused so much pain and suffering.
As for walking through my old haunts, that will be strange. I packed my Flip camera with me, so I might record some stuff. We shall see.