Home Is Where Your Rump Rests

Home is where your rump restsEvery time people ask me where I grew up, I find that a bit of a difficult question to answer.  When I saw The Lion King, I found myself nodding in agreement to Pumbaa’s statement, “Home is where your rump rests.”

Until someone told me about the term “Army Brat.”  Then it was much simpler to explain.

My father was career military, retired when I was twenty years old and out of the house, so we moved quite often while I was growing up.  To my memory, the longest we stayed in any place was Petawawa where we lived for four years.  But most of the places we lived, we were able to walk to school.  Church, not always, but those we the two things my parents looked for in acquiring property.  I should not that they only bought houses in Gloucester (Ottawa), Greenfield Park (Montreal), and St. Albert (Edmonton).

Note: The locations listed in brackets are the cities I list first when people ask where I grew up.

And since I returned from my mission – which was served in Greece and Cyprus – I have lived in Edmonton.  Mostly.  I still moved around a lot, once every two or three years, but I have stayed within the same geographical area for the more part.

Do I have any regrets for the frequent moving?  Not really.  I am quite adept in both of my home country’s official languages because of my upbringing and where ever I go I tend to find someone I know.  At times, it seems like the best way to clean the house.  As my daughter has reminded me as of late.

A chore chart may be in order.


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