I spent a week in Beaver Dam, WI, talking about belonging. It’s the town where I was born and raised. At 18, I went off to college, but still whenever I was headed that way, I would say, “I’m going home for the weekend.” And mostly that meant I was headed back to see my parents.

Twenty years ago, my mom died. Ten years ago, my dad died. So we sold that house, and the tug of visiting parents was no longer the gravitational force it once had been. I didn’t go back to Beaver Dam much after that.

So it was a treat when the Beaver Dam chapter of AAUW invited me to come back to town. They led a summer common read program in town and had chosen Lessons on the Road to Peace for their 4th season. They wanted some public programming in the fall to bring people together after reading the book. We’d been talking about it for two years, and they built a coalition of partners to make it happen. The local art center, the community theater, the middle school, the high school, the private boarding school, the technical college, the library, the chamber of commerce, the community center, and the radio station. (No doubt, I’ll be horrified when someone points out who I have forgotten!)

We brought an exhibit, visited classrooms, talked until my voice ran out, and led a public studio asking people what belonging meant to them. I’ll share a few moments from the week that felt like belonging to me, and then I’ll share the gallery of every response we got (plus a video of a selection.)

-I was invited to stay with old neighbors. They were friends of my parents and they were out of town, but they gave me free reign of their house and whatever food was in the fridge.

-Walking into a local brew pub, I was greeted by a man who I’d never met, sitting on a stool who said, “Hi John, welcome home.” We talked a little and I went to grab an NA beer from the cooler. When I went to pay for it, I was told it was already taken care of.

-I got to have lunch with my high school band director. Breakfast with old neighbors. Took a selfie with my high school best friend’s mom. Found my old locker in the high school hall. Hugged old friends.

-When I struggled with a cough at a Wednesday night program, I woke up Thursday morning to a jar of local honey on the porch and a hand written note that said they hoped the honey would soothe the cough so I could keep talking about the project. (It worked.)

-I heard over and over again from people who played cards with my parents and missed them. From parents whose kids had my mom as a kindergarten teacher’s aid. From people who my dad had hired for the county human services office. From people who said, “Even before I knew you, I knew your parents, so you had a head start.”

There were a thousand little moments. Big moments. And even though my mailing address is now 200 miles away, the people of Beaver Dam let me know that I belonged. It’s good to go home.