There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home.
When I was a little girl, I used to click my heels together and chant that phrase. Of course, as an Army brat, home wasn't really a place. We moved a lot. To me, home was people -- my dad, my mom, my little sister -- and a dachshund named Barney. (Who, by the way, did NOT want to be Toto in my dramatic play.) So what was I thinking about when I clicked my heels? Kansas. My dad is from Kansas, so it was home to someone very important to me. And, since I had never lived there, it seemed like a magical far-off place. (It still retained a hint of magic when we moved there in 1990.) The first time I saw The Wizard of Oz, I was as impressed with the sepia-toned Kansas farm as I was the amazing Technicolor reveal of Munchinland in Oz. In fact, I was pretty much mesmerized by every single moment in the film. I don't think I could pick a favorite scene if I tried!
