Even before I opened my eyes, I knew.
Yes, being back in my old home territory meant I knew, even before I opened my eyes in the morning, that it was
foggy outside—salty, gauzy, clammy, foggy.
Snuggled under blankets, I awoke to fog horns signaling back
and forth, and I knew that up and down the Sound, ships were navigating with
care.
Being home again meant I knew which fog horn belonged to the
ferry.
For eleven years now I have lived inland, far from fog
horns, but I have heard them nevertheless—or so I thought. Many a time I’ve
heard a train horn wail in the distance and somewhere deep in the back corner
of my mind I’ve assumed it was a fog horn—only to “come to” a few seconds later
and realize I was hearing a train. To paraphrase the old saying, “You can take
the girl from the sea, but you can’t take the sea from the girl.”
What about you? Have you had similar home-related
experiences? How can you paraphrase this original old proverb to describe your
life? “You can take a boy out of the country but you can’t take the country out
of a boy.” (1938, “B. Baer” in Baer and Major)
Search for a place to use that in your memoir. Your readers
will enjoy it. They'll fell they know you better.
