Going Home: Stories of Small-Town Central Illinois

Coming in mid-November, 2025 at Amazon and other online bookstores

Book Summary

Going Home is a hybrid collection of memoir-style nonfiction, poetry, and fiction set in small-town Central Illinois. The first portion of the book features 36 reflections and poems rooted in my experiences growing up in Auburn, Illinois, during the 1960s and '70s. Some of these reflections and poems were previously published in local newspapers and on this website.

This is a book for those who yearn to return to a simpler time—when children's laughter echoed through summer evenings and it was perfectly normal for a mother to lean out the back door and holler for her kids to come home. It's also for those in the autumn of life, whose calendars are filled with doctors' appointments and funeral visitations, and who yearn for hope and assurance as they navigate the final stretch toward their eternal Home. The cover, painted by artist Glen Wheelus, captures that sacred journey—leaving town, passing the cemetery, crossing the bridge, and ascending into the glorious light of eternity.

Each story highlights the profound impact of seemingly insignificant people and unremarkable events that rarely make it into the headlines. You'll meet cherished schoolteachers, faithful gardeners, and beloved grandparents. You'll shop on the town square, fish at the local pond, and sing at a grade-school Christmas program. And through it all, you'll glimpse God's larger plan at work in everyday life.

The final "Fiction" section premiers three fictitious short stories set in Auburn during the Civil War, the 1980s, and the present day. These hope-filled stories explore themes of loss and redemption. A whimsical fairy tale, set on the banks of Sugar Creek, is included for children.

The book is organized into six thematic sections: Around Town, On the Farm, At the House, On the Road, At the Altar, and Fiction. Each piece stands alone, yet together they form a portrait of the enduring values of small-town life. Bible verses are woven throughout, offering insight and inspiration.

Going Home features eight original sketches by artist Glen Wheelus, inspired by vintage photographs of Auburn, Illinois taken by the author's mother in the 1960s and '70s. These illustrations beautifully complement the book's nostalgic tone and bring its small-town scenes to life.

Excerpts From Going Home

From: "The Christmas Promise"

I stood motionless in front of Rua's, catching snowflakes with my mittens, breathing in the aroma of pine and the subtle scent of white, white snow—discernible especially to children—and I knew in that moment that everything was possible. Everything. Everything was perfect, attainable, in front of me. I didn't know how to describe this certainty back then, but my soul inhaled it and stored it in a safe place. I felt as if I'd been given a promise.

From: "Christmas at the Small-Town Variety Store"

Why do I find myself wanting to go back to the '70s? Is it because I’m nostalgic? Well, yes! Sentimental? Definitely!

But those aren’t the only reasons. As I reflect on the past, it seems to me that there was more big in the small than I realized back then. There were unexpected blessings tucked in the shopping aisles—a teacher who treated you like a peer outside the school setting, or a Merry Mushroom pan set that you put on layaway and successfully saved $10 from every paycheck to redeem before Christmas to surprise your mother. There was the scent of bayberry candles and the Christmas carols on the store's speaker system that sent you walking in step with the beat. And when you were the recipient of a gift, there were blocks of cheddar cheese and cans of Ray's chili that you still remember fifty years later.

From: "The Christmas Triangle"

The performers [at the school Christmas play] in the second act were the third graders, adorned with light blue nightgowns sprinkled with glitter. Their heads were encircled with wires shaped like halos. It would seem to an onlooker that the second graders had been skipped, but everyone in town knew that the children performed on an every-other-year schedule to give the mothers a rest, much to the relief of families with six or more children. During the "off" years, the children sang in the choir. When the third-grade angels finished "Angels We Have Heard on High," the velvet curtain closed.

It was our class's turn. Mrs. Ramsey moved toward us and waved her arms. The pianist played, and we began to sing "Do You Hear What I Hear." The lyrics told the story of the birth of Jesus, of shepherds and little lambs and a star dancing in the night. It was a gentle song, brimming with hope. A snare drum tapped lightly in cadence with the rhythm. A wand touched a triangle, and it rang out pure and clear with a ting. I thought to myself that the triangle made the sound of stars.

In the dimmed lights, I could see the faint movement of all our mothers and fathers, and I knew they were smiling on us with approval. As we sang, a sense of awe grew inside me. I was overwhelmed with the love and goodness that surrounded me. It was a town-sized love. It was too much love to hold. In that moment, I realized that all that love surely had to come from somewhere bigger.

From: "The Prodigal Aunt"

Solange gasped. The moon had risen above the horizon, casting soft, ivory beams across the farm. The land was bathed in what felt like a holy light. The cow stanchion threw a long shadow over the ground. The oak trees loomed larger than life, their silhouettes stretching beside the picket fence. Together, their shadows formed shapes—figures that looked like bowing worshipers in the moonlight.

It was as if Heaven had sent a glimpse of splendor for a special occasion, as if it had been planned for the night Solange had come, as if God cared about an old woman's sorrow.