Frazz by Jef Mallett for October 12, 2021

We have customers that have only missed one homecoming weekend in the 30 years since they graduated and yes that was last year. ;^)

I attended University WAY too far away to bring home dirty laundry. And no matter how long it had been, when I came “home” to where I grew up, I was my parent’s kid still. Even when I arrived with a spouse and a kid of my own. Spouse was not at all fond of that sensation (her parents had been borderline abusive).

Considering how long he’s been in the same grade, he should understand the concept of considering the school his home.

When coming to America, the concept of Home Coming was alien to me and is still incomprehensible!

Homecoming, Spring Break, Tournament Week, Pledge Week. Christmas month, etc, take all the fun out of attending classes and studying to improve oneself. H-m-m-m-m. Wonder – did I get that backwards?

What’s college have to do with it? I thought it was a high school thing.

Couple weeks, in my experience.

When you get older you’ll realize you have more than one place to come home

1) My college dorm had several free washing machines and dryers in the basement.

2) My family moved several times during my childhood, so that to me “home” has never been any particular place, but always wherever I was living at the time.

Home is always home. My mom has lived in the same house for 56 years — my whole life + 4. I live 3 hours away and have since I left for college. 20 years in my current house. Yet her house is still just as much “home” as the one I pay mortgage on.❤️

Was just thinking about that! My parent’s house was “home” until I got the apt b/f I got married. And somewhere after the wedding, I realized I was now saying “my/the parent’s house” & “our apt/place”! And it’s been that way for 45 years now, even tho’ said parents & the house are gone.

All my friends from high school, and most friends from college are ghosted.

There was a time when a person was grown up before he went off to college.

So many roads Ive travelledin this dark and dreary life.And yet so many roads laie before methat I have yet to step upon.The past is always with youhaunting you, beckoning you,calling you to return just one last time.And yet, when you get to whereyou have been before,nothing is the same, and you feel unwanted.Walking down a street where you used to live,the house you lived inhas been torn down, and is no longer there.Only memories remainof a lifetime, lived so long ago.People that you have once known,but do not know you anymore.Wave and smile blankly at you in the street.The pain, a lingering lump in the throat.Choking down tears left unshed.Sorrow bubbles up from deep inside.You move on, for everything changes;And you can never go home again.

Once I moved away to college, I considered the house where I grew up to be mainly my parents’ home. And definitely once I was out of college, working and married, my HOME was where I live.

On a visit home from college, I’d bring laundry, and Mommy would brightly chirp: “You still love me!” =^__________^=

Mommy was a card.

Home is where the heart is. If you left yours somewhere it’s a shame.

Never got the point of Homecoming for high school or college. Meh.

Is that a new hairdo, or a new character?

Married and went to college on the GI Bill, working a night job at the same time. Didn’t attend graduation because I was working. Home, what little I was there, was as divorced from college as I could make it.

Everytime I go back to Ann Arbor, I feel like Im coming home; in fact, we intend to retire there.