“We all have hometown appetites. Every other person is a bundle of longing for the simplicities of good taste once enjoyed on the farm or in the hometown [he or she] left behind.”

-Clementine Paddleford

Tonight, I had the pleasure to talking to an old neighbor from my high school days, Jill, an older sister to one of my classmates, Randy. She called to get my parent's address to email a graduation announcement - her son Jacob is graduating - to my mom who always had a warm spot for Jacob.

In the process, she caught me up on the good news of Crown Point - marriages, people returning, the baseball team making it to the state quarter finals, adventures and lives of my former peers.

The timing was good as I have been thinking a lot about Crown Point recently. Remembering riding my bike up and down Factoryville Road, Alice and Alex Schinski always on their front porch, the bell that was last rung by my mother and her mischievous childhood buddy Freddy Todd having last rung at the end of WWII that within the last 10 years was bashed out of the old Grange Hall tower and taken as a trophy to a place that can never know its history. George King, a saint of a man who would only repair the furnace or an oven for free and who hangs multiple calendars on his wall that represent the different day-date combos. I've been hearing from more and more old friends. Journalists can get their nickers in a half hitch all they want about Facebook and privacy, but I've become reacquainted with quite a few old friends through Facebook.

Anyway, Jill, here are some photos from the last few years.