Back Home to the Past, by Scott Belzer

This time of year takes many back to their hometowns to visit family and friends. It has for me many times over the years. I have always enjoyed going back to Ames, Iowa, the small five-mile by five-mile “city” where I spent my childhood. Being with my parents in the house I grew up in, on the street I skateboarded on, by the park I walked my yellow lab Blondie in, brings about this lovely nostalgic feeling I get from no other place on earth. Driving around Ames, passing places I spent time and shared space with others in, draws me back to a life where my biggest worry was what mom was cooking for dinner. 

But inevitably, as my trip draws to an end, I leave feeling slightly disappointed. It took me a while to understand why, but then I had a conversation with an old friend, clearing the fog. I expect Ames to remain as I left it 20 some years ago. But it doesn’t. It carries on without me, and on some level, I took this personally. The memory of my hometown lives on as I’m away, all the while Ames moves on despite my absence.

There’s a sadness to your town moving on without you, because it was your town at one time. It’s where you went to school, played sports, went on your first date, drank your first sip of alcohol, saw your first concert, had your first communion, and met your best friend. You helped shape the town in your own small way and made it what it is, or, rather what it was. Then, for one reason or another, life took you away, bringing all the emotions with it – excitement, fear, sadness. But while you were gone, others took over, making your town their town, shaping and molding it in their own way. But that’s just how it works, especially in small town Iowa, where kids move away. Because after a time, anywhere else looks better than where you grew up.

Realizing your town is not yours anymore is jarring. Ames looks and feels a little different every time I come home. A building or business from childhood is gone, replaced by something shiny and new. Something to do with progress I suppose. And it brings a certain sadness, because I want and expect the Ames of my youth, just as I remember it. But it’s not and it won't and it shouldn’t. Life marches on and so does Ames.

I’m finally relinquishing my right to the town, although it was already taken from me shortly after I left.  I’ve accepted it’s no longer mine and now enjoy the memories of my time spent in that 5-mile by 5-mile oasis called Ames, Iowa.

-Scott Belzer