It’s good to be back in Cleveland—my birthplace and the home of my youth. Much has changed since I last lived here in the late 1970s. Mostly an improvement. 

I still have family here—a brother and his family and lots of aunts, uncles and cousins. We are gathering today for the Conway Christmas Party, the only time each year that we get together (outside of funerals). I’m looking forward to it, but with some mixed emotions. 

Growing up here wasn’t always easy. There was lots of pressure to conform to an ideal image of what it meant to be a Conway. I didn’t always fit the pattern and, so, often felt that I wasn’t good enough. Many years have passed, and I long ago accepted myself as more than “good enough” (with the help of God’s grace). But emotion is, by definition, irrational, and the feelings return unbidden especially at times like these. There’s no point hiding from them. They need to be faced and accepted for what they are—one day at a time. 

I love my hometown and my family of origin in spite of whatever weaknesses we possess. We native Clevelanders and Conways are survivors. When life knocks us down, we get back up and move on, confident that better days are coming and (as my mother always said) hope springs eternal.