The Color of Family

Coming home to Parma is never bitter-sweet. There has always been a tug, but my career called me west. If I may indulge:

Out Where the West Begins

Out where the handclasp's a little stronger,
Out where the smile dwells a little longer,
          That's where the West begins;
Out where the sun is a little brighter,
Where the snows that fall are a trifle whiter;
Where the bonds of home are a wee bit tighter;
          That's where the West begins.
Out where the skies are a trifle bluer,
Out where the friendship's a little truer,
          That's where the West begins
Out where a fresher breeze is blowing,
Where there's laughter in every streamlet flowing,
Where there's more of reaping and less of sowing,
          That's where the West begins.
Out where the world is in the making,
Where fewer hearts with despair are aching;
          That's where the West begins;
Where there's more of singing and less of sighing,
Where's there's more of giving and less of buying,
And where a man makes friends without half trying,
          That's where the West begins

-Arthur Chapman

But when you are surrounded by my Parma family, you do always feel a little stronger, a wee bit tighter, less of sighing, and always, always, friends without half trying. 

Pops. This man is awesome. I wish my dad had been as great a man as him. Murt and I spent many a days and nights in and around his mill in downtown Parma. I love this man. They don't come any better.

I spent hours sitting on this wall at the mill talking with Murt and plotting the ways we were going to conquer the world. Or, where our next beer was going to come from.

I asked Dennis to take me back to the mill the evening before we left. Something was pulling me back to get one more picture to add to my Collecting Colors.

I hope you have enjoyed my colors as much as I have. Cheers - Carol (Mel)