My hometown of LaGrange, Kentucky is situated 25 miles north of Louisville. It is famous for the trains that cut through the center of town 32 times per day. Car traffic from one side of the town to the other halts frequently for train traffic. As a child, I was always captivated by the sight and sounds of the passing trains. Today I got to share that experience with my own girls as I took them on a hometown tour.

Mabel and Matilda have been visiting LaGrange since they were babies, but this summer Mabel is old enough to listen to my childhood stories. While eating lunch, we heard the faint dinging sound of train signals and ran outside to witness the booming power of trains passing by.

I shared with her my experiences on the school bus and the drivers being incredibly frustrated when the train would cut off their bus route. I remember playing train games with my sisters and taking turns guessing the color of the final train car. I could hear the horn of the train from my childhood bedroom. Even to this day, when I hear train horns I feel a bit of comfort.

Shops and restaurants have come and gone, but downtown traditions remain the same. I remember the magic of “Light-Up LaGrange” every Christmas and the “Oldham County Day” parade each summer. Each of these downtown LaGrange events were highlights of the town’s social calendar. I shared my memories of these events with the girls as we continued on the hometown tour.

As the girls ran up the steps of the downtown court house, I remember the life-defining moments that happened there. At the age of 16, I walked out of the front doors of this building proudly holding my driver’s license. At the age of 22, Emily and I walked out the very same doors with our marriage license.

As we walked inside, Mabel and Matilda were enchanted by the long court house hallway, and asked if they could stay a little while. We sat together and watched the hustle and bustle of small town proceedings.

I am a proud graduate of LaGrange Elementary School. As my own daughters inch ever closer to embarking on their own elementary school journeys, I walked them through the halls of my former school.

I was able to point out my kindergarten and first grade classrooms. The room where I learned to read chapter books. The room where my 4th grade teacher told me that I was a good writer. The room where I was picked up from school early by my mom, so that I could attend my grandpa’s funeral.

As we walked through the front hallway, my dad and I laughed as we recalled the memory of that same grandpa picking me up from school one day. He walked into the main lobby, noticed me walking with my class, said “Come on, Tyler”, and I followed him out of the building. He didn’t notify the teacher or sign me out of school. My teacher recognized that I was missing and the school promptly notified my parents, who immediately questioned my grandpa. After hearing his side of the story, he was given a stern lecture. He never did that again.

Walking into the 1940s-era gym, I noticed that the bleachers and murals on the walls were the same as when I had attended school. I stood in the exact spot where each year I failed to climb the rope to the top of the gym ceiling. Mabel and Matilda ran up the steps to the stage where I performed countless times with the school choir and in theatre programs. I  thought about my parents and grandparents who always looked out from the audience and were so proud of me.

Wrapping up my hometown tour, I couldn’t help but realize that this tiny town holds more of my memories than any other place in the world. Walking the streets reminded me of how grateful I am to have grown up in a place like LaGrange. Places trigger memories and walking through town today helped me to recall long-forgotten moments from my childhood.

My girls are creating memories of their own here.

I hope that by sharing my own history of this place with them, they will come to love it as much as I do.

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