Going home.

Houston is more than a place where it's 85 degrees in November.

About ten years ago, my childhood home was razed.

Childress wasn’t an especially distinguished house. It was small - suffocatingly so to my 6’ 3” father - with only two bedrooms and one bathtub and a one car garage, a modest 1940s bungalow in a neighborhood across Highway 59 from what was, at the time, the Summit. When the circus train rolled into town, …