CORVALLIS, Ore. — Long ago I adopted the mantra that “home is where I live.”

That always prevented me from saying that I would be “going home” upon returning to Oregon, the state where I was born and came of age.

Now that I have gotten that out of the way, I feel a strange sense of being “home” while coming back to Oregon.

My wife and I embarked on a remarkable journey through life nearly 50 years ago. It took us eventually to Texas — with excursions along the way to virtually all 50 states and about 20 countries.

Going “home” to Oregon usually fills me with a sense of familiarity. I know Portland. I know the Willamette Valley, the Columbia River Gorge, the Cascade Range, the Pacific Ocean coastline.

I know these places because I frequented them many times before my career led me to Texas, where we reared our sons and brought them into manhood.

Our most recent return to the Pacific Northwest has filled me with an added pleasure. It has enabled me to hook up with young men of my youth. These are fellows who were awkward and gawky once in their lives … in our lives. They have grown up just as I managed to do.

We all have enjoyed success in professional and personal aspects of our lives. It hasn’t been a joy ride devoid of potholes along the way. It’s just life as we all know and expect it to be.

I still believe that “home is where I live.” Coming back to where I used to call “home” has given me a strange sense of belonging. It feels mighty good.