We watch and wait. Our feelings are mixed. Where is home, and how do we get there? Home is a place in our hearts more than our heads. A place where we feel accepted and wanted. Often, we search for years without success. A vain attempt is made to fit into someone else’s definition of Home. They tell us that this is the home we want, while we feel underwhelmed. The Baby Boomer Generation’s definition of Home and success left subsequent generations wanting. A house in the suburbs and a two-car garage. Working from 9-5 each day for a year with a two-week break for vacation is not inspiring. Many Baby Boomers chose the road of protest and hallucinogens for an enlightened path toward Home. This path resulted in limited success and still much seeking. I was friends with several Jewish Hippies in the early 70s. Some found Home while others chose the corporate world, sad and disillusioned with their early quest.

The Old Man was at Home in New Orleans in the French Quarter. The Spirit of the place inspired him. The joy de vie was compelling. You could feel it in your bones. Singing and dancing, horns playing jazz, and smiles all around are hard to argue with on a Wednesday. Shopping for a Pork Pie Hat was fun and a mission from God. Sitting in Jackson Park was a delight as the artists set up their exhibits. The focus on joy rather than riches was intoxicating. I have followed Le Petite Theatre, where we saw Blithe Spirit Thursday night. I am thoroughly enjoying the Facebook posting from Le Petite Theatre regarding the performance that we saw just over a week ago. I have not enjoyed a theatrical performance more, and have seen two plays on Broadway. We also attended two performances in London’s West End, and still, Le Petite is my favorite. However, the enthusiasm of the audience reminded me of the West End. Theatre provides a welcoming of all people. It is home for thought and a venue for voice in all forms.

How shall we find Home when we have not found ourselves?
What makes your heart sing? What makes your soul leap? This is a good barometer and compass on your way Home. My journey has been many roads of discovery. Raised in a conservative family, I had to discover my quest for Home. My Christian faith became progressive, and I followed my heart when it came to accepting all people. When I began working at Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale, I was working with students from 70 countries. I was happier than I had ever been. I learned Jesus loves the little children, all the little children of the world. Red, yellow black, and white are precious in his sight. We learn from each other when we listen. We accept each other when our hearts are open.

The Bartender at the Carousel Bar in the Hotel Monteleone told us that we were good people and that he meets a lot of people. Perhaps he saw or felt our openness for others, no matter their color or creed or faith, or lack thereof. There is one requirement for a human being’s acceptance…breathing. MJ told me that the journey to New Orleans had transformed her and lifted her spirits. Her steps are lighter, and her outlook is brighter. I feel the Leaping of my soul when I think of the jazz band in the Hotel Monteleon. The feeling is rare, and the Old Man seeks more…please…