Photo taken from the town lot in Strasburg, Virginia, looking north. The well-known landmark water tower, perched high above town on North Street, can be glimpsed through the trees.
At the risk of sounding hokey, in a Norman-Rockwell-painting sort of way, I have to declare I love my hometown.
I think the operative word here is “home” because it contains all those connotations of family, friends, sense of place and shared experiences. On just about any given day I can share with someone in my community the memory of a recent or long ago event and we will nod in pleasant recognition of having been there to witness it. Well into my 60th decade, I can walk down the street and run into a former classmate, quite possibly someone with whom I passed through all 12 years of school, and we can still laugh or cry at things we remember about those long ago days.
I live in a place where my love for the mountains that surround us and the river that runs by us is shared mutually by almost everyone.
There is a continuity to life in my small town that, no matter what happens along the way, gives a sense of stability, security and peace to those of us who call it home.
I cannot imagine living anywhere else.
Strasburg Town Run, Queen Street
Fort Street. This street used to extend out of Strasburg and cross the Shenandoah River on an old iron bridge.
Dated brass plate on old concrete bridge that supports the railroad trestle over Rt. 11, in Strasburg, Virginia
Annual Mayfest parade