The four of us took a road trip yesterday and headed back to the family’s stomping grounds in Northwest Iowa. My Uncle Bud and Aunt Jane celebrated their 50th Anniversary. The Vander Well’s don’t get together much any more, so this was  kind of special. It was a long day on the road, but it was a nice day and we had a lot of laughs with family. I had fun seeing the town where my family lived when I was born and where I spent many a weekend of my childhood. My mom took Wendy, Madison, nephew Sol and me on a guided tour of Le Mars. We saw where she and dad first met, the house the family lived in when I was born, etc., etc.

Then we sat in the American Legion Hall with many old people eating ham buns, drinking ice tea and staring blankly at the dark wood paneling. It was a quintessential midwest, small town moment. It’s the kind of touchstone event that dot the timeline of life. After seeing Thornton Wilder’s "Our Town" a few weeks ago, it made me think about those moments a bit. It made me quietly grateful for those moments even though I make fun of them and at times they drive me crazy. I guess we often laugh hardest at those things that are most true about ourselves.