The Family Bell

There has been a little more weight in the trunk of my car for a couple of months now. It's so heavy, I didn't even remove it when I packed for The Feast of the Hunters' Moon or the Great Lakes Congress show.

It's the bell that hung outside the back door of Morainewood, our home on the Wabash River.

I have no idea how old it is - it was there when we bought the home in 1970.

Thanksgiving 1970. Leslie on Pokey with (left) our great Aunt Clara, Great Uncle Howard, and (right) our mom and Grandma Martin. (Owner of O'Boy, the circus pony.) Check out my mom's hands - she's got a couple of apples for Amy and Pokey!

My siblings and I used to roam all over the place - down along the river, up in the woods, and go way back through the ravines and creeks of the moraine we lived on.

When she wanted us to come home, Mom would ring that bell and the sound would travel long distances - no matter how far we wandered, on horseback or on foot, we could always hear it. (Look between the two trees in the middle and you will see the bell.)

I can still hear its beautiful sound calling me home. So when Leslie found it tucked away in her barn and asked if I wanted it, of course I said I did. I'm not sure what I will do with it, but in the meantime, a very important piece of my childhood resides in the trunk of my car.

And I am happy that it is there. In a way, it still calls me home.