Last month, I made a brief pilgrimage to the home of my childhood. Actually, not exactly, or sort of. I was a "military brat"; which means that home is often a fluid concept. When my dad was shipped overseas, however, my mother and I found a little house to rent up the street from my aunt, in Ashland KY. Until we later settled in Bellmawr, NJ; Ashland was home, no matter where we were living at the time. This is where my mother's family is from, and where we would find ourselves on visits and family vacations. Our house was on Thomas Street, but every morning I would make the turn on the street for my school. And I felt important.