Where I come from

I went "home" for Thanksgiving (At least to my mom's place in Ontario, OR), and took an unplanned visit back to Vale which is where I grew up. I've posted pictures of Vale before, but this time I went back to the farm where I lived for 17 years of my life. It hasn't changed a lot, but it's hard to explain how foreign it felt. Did I really grow up here? It's so......rural.

The House. Not in real good shape.


A caboose that I used to play in down the road.


Our mailbox. You can still make out our name that my brother painted on it. Sweet!


Deer that ran across the road in front of our van.


The grave of an Oregon Trail man named Henderson who died of thirst about 50 yards from the river. Unlucky.

I could spend a couple of days retracing my steps and taking pictures. Perhaps I will at some point.

What makes who you are? This community that I grew up in certainly infuenced me in countless ways. I go back and forth between regretting and embracing that fact. Brian Simmons might say "unpack that."

Maybe some other time.