The story goes that during the Civil War, Callaway County, Missouri, refused to take sides for the North or the South and instead seceded from the Union – and to this day they claim they have never been officially readmitted – and since then that plot of land (now also called the Little Dixie area of Missouri) has been called the Kingdom of Callaway. Those of us who were born in the K of C are known as Callawegians – a title that can be gained ONLY by birth inside the county lines. When I was growing up my parents often told me that I was the family claim to acceptance since I was the only Callawegian – later to be joined by my nephew and his father.
I no longer have relatives in Fulton (county seat of the K of C) but I do have one major link – our tax accountant! And today was our annual meeting with Dave – so following a “here’s the bad news and don’t shoot the messenger” meeting with Dave we took a quick drive around the major highlights of Fulton. First stop the trees at the Callaway County Library that my aunt and uncle gave in memory of my parents – the only spot on the earth where their names and dates on this earth are recorded so for me it’s the equivalent of visiting a grave (I’ll save their final resting place for another post). We usually are in Fulton earlier in tax season so it was pure joy to see the trees today in their flowering glory – they are Chinese cherry trees and my mother’s tree, while a bit smaller, was brimming with red cherries and small pink blooms. My father’s tree featured more white blooms with a touch of pink and both of them reminded me that their memories will always be with me and they remain alive in Heaven forever. (End of sermon, thank you for listening.)
We then drove past the my parents’ home where they lived for over 40 years – they moved there when I was 11 and my daughters never knew another home for them. Then a trip north on Nichols and a final swing south on Court Street past the old stately homes and through the business district, out past my sister’s former home and then it was over – our brief annual trip to Fulton. It’s true – you can’t go home again – the town looks a little less cheery without my loving family there to greet me but it’s still the place of my birth and I’m already looking forward to our trip next year.
