“I’m not from Omaha…”
I just can’t let a year pass without writing about Czech Days and where I am from. I can’t. The nostalgia is just too sweet to let it pass by. The oompahpah nestles too deep to ignore. And I can’t help but feel the excitement of dancing the polka, of dripping with sweat in the Beer Garden, of catching up with familiar faces, and of hearing my children’s excitement over the parade, the “big band”, and the corn dogs at LoLo’s. It’s just, like nothing else I’ve ever known.
And while it’s not where my home is, I think it will, for awhile longer, be my hometown. There’s too much of me there… And too much of it inside of me… for me to claim anything else.
For more posts on Czech Days and my hometown: