tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8936630222019897817.post780120502417693115..comments2023-07-11T14:42:14.414-04:00Comments on mothersofbrothersblog: 169. You Can't Go HomeMOVhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00782183723607923501noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8936630222019897817.post-35816504932797324192011-11-17T21:56:20.709-05:002011-11-17T21:56:20.709-05:00thanks, couse. This one WAS deep for me, you'...thanks, couse. This one WAS deep for me, you're right! <br /><br />best, <br />MOVMOVhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00782183723607923501noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8936630222019897817.post-55659493471976720742011-11-16T15:44:48.784-05:002011-11-16T15:44:48.784-05:00Very deep. I don't know why we remember some ...Very deep. I don't know why we remember some things and not others. Why do some smells bring back a flood of memories when sometimes being physically in a place does nothing? The brain is a complicated organ. We would do well to respect it.thescousewifenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8936630222019897817.post-1679267309124549312010-10-18T17:44:34.413-04:002010-10-18T17:44:34.413-04:00Or, as Thomas Wolfe says, "You can't go h...Or, as Thomas Wolfe says, "You can't go home again." Last month, because I was going to be in New York city, I looked up my childhood address in the Bronx, and. . .it was still there. . .and I did stop. And I did remember so many little things, but the neighborhood had changed, very urban and "edgy." Van Cortland park, which had been a favorite place to play, did not look the same. But I am glad I did stop, but no I did not knock on the door. I wish I had.Hobbeshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05785247438470137000noreply@blogger.com