FRANKTON, Ind. — There is nothing quite like the connection we feel to our hometown.
Our hometown shapes who we are, how we act and the way we look at the world. It ties us to the past, present and future, and is a part of us just as surely as our very DNA.
But our culture has done very little to recognize the powerful bond we feel with our hometown. That’s why noted filmmaker Ken Burns and Hall of Fame country musician Marty Stuart have teamed up to launch “Honor Your Hometown,” a campaign to recognize every American city.
Burns and Stuart have asked Americans to create and share a 1- to 2-minute video on their website —HonorYourHometown.com — talking about their hometown. Thus far, the site has a wide assortment of people sharing their memories and pride of their hometown.
I’ve always believed that someone’s hometown is something that never leaves them. For example, Chase Briscoe might live in North Carolina, but he will forever be from Mitchell, Ind. Same with Jack Hewitt; he might relocate to Florida, but he will always be from Troy, Ohio. Forever and ever, amen.
My hometown is Frankton, Ind., (population, 1,862). It’s a town very much like hundreds of other towns, but different. Different because our main boulevard — Sigler Street — has a unique feel. I can drive down Sigler and point to where my aunt used to live, where the old elementary school once stood and the vacant corner lot downtown where a bunch of rowdy knuckleheads — me and my friends — would congregate to drink beer, whistle at the girls and raise hell — within reason — until the town marshal ran us off.
People are good neighbors there. They help each other out and they have genuine concern for each other. They also gossip, snipe and complain, just like all people. But when there is a house fire or an untimely passing, watch how they emerge from their homes with food, clothing and compassion.
There was a time, standing under a street lamp on a quiet Saturday night and watching bats swoop after flying insects, I couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose to stay in this backwater, one-horse town. Where is the excitement? Where are the bright lights? Where is the fun?
I figured I’d shake the dust off my shoes at the first opportunity and go somewhere exciting. I didn’t, of course; my first home as an adult was two miles south of town. With the passing of a few years and the arrival of kids, those quiet nights at home suddenly felt pretty good.
But in due course a job drew me away, because a 50-minute commute each way to Indianapolis is too much. Plus, I could be that much closer to the airport and other practical considerations.
That move was a bunch of years ago. But there hasn’t been one day that I didn’t think of something or someone related to Frankton. I’ve maintained contact with a bunch of schoolmates and friends (one of the positive aspects of social media) and watched how we’ve all changed with the passing of time — but we’re still the same kind, caring people we were all those years ago.
No matter how many years pass, Frankton will always be a key part of me. That’s a great thing; when I spend a few minutes analyzing who I am and why I think the way I do, I can trace much back to those years as a kid in Frankton, influenced by strong parents, teachers and school bus drivers and other adults in my orbit.
That’s when I realize how lucky I was that destiny put me in Frankton at the very beginning.
My hometown is a very cool place. I wouldn’t change a thing.