I still have flashbacks of those moments and can hear the words and visualize the people from another era. My prairie home is beautiful, but Oh, I miss the broken skyline that I know. I search in vain for rivers and for lakes but, over all, at sunset my heart aches for the Hills of Home. I learned to sing this song at an early age for a county wide music festival. Now I know the reality in these words.
People love where they grow up but there are other roads home.
Close your eyes and visualize that day you could spend fishing. A youthful artist's mind has a way of making photos of experiences that can be visualized years later. One of my mental photos is of children painting Dala horses in the old Swedish Pavilion when it was on the Bethany Campus. The pavilion was large, open and filled with paint smells, with areas given to easels for painting classes, all kinds of still life objects de art, Greek busts, wooden sphere balls, cones, live plants. A real treasure of subjects was waiting to come alive on student canvases.