GOING HOME I was born in the forties in the small outport of Princeton on Bonavista Bay in Newfoundland, the son of an inshore fisherman, but left at an early age to make my way on the mainland. Recently I was watching a TV program in which a reporter was interviewing a man who had worked in Toronto for 30 years. The man confessed he was just counting the days until retirement. Why? Because he was “going home”. The words “going home” have always brought excitement to the hearts and minds of Newfoundlanders who have had no choice but to leave home to find work in farflung parts of the world. Whether it’s many years or few that they’ve been away, dreams of “going home” have been on their mind every day. Why is it that Newfoundlanders have such a strong yearning for home? Family, yes, the moms, dads, brothers, sisters, grandparents, cousins, and friends left behind are not easy to forget, nor should they be. They tie us to our childhood, a time when every morning felt like spring and our whole world was sunshine and warmth. Adulthood and leaving home meant the support and encouragement when you succeeded or failed was no longer there. One memory of going home is especially vivid for me. Not long after leaving home for the first time, I was driving with my young family in a brand new Chevrolet, and as we approached the railway crossing in my home town, several of my uncles were working on the tracks close by. Rolling down the window to talk with them, I felt so proud showing off my new car, and their expressions told me they were pleased with my success. “Home” means the heartwarming feeling of sharing such small triumphs with those who care, an experience that was missing in the big city. “Home” means no shortage of caring relatives when you’re sick, coming to visit bearing home made soup, fresh bread, and maybe a jar of blueberry jam. All this, and the sense of timelessness of the outports, snuggled up to a sparkling sea, with the sweet scent of woodsmoke drifting on the breeze. These “going home” feelings are not something new. For many years, my uncle worked on the grain boats on the Great Lakes, leaving home early in the spring and returning in December. As autumn approached, he longed for the lakes to freeze up. Why? Because he was going home to be with family and friends. Going home has been on the minds of Newfoundlanders ever since the days when sailing ships took them around the world. I hope it’s your turn this year. THE END   Submitted By: Hayward Prince