Young Langston Hughes was a dreamer. The thing he dreamed most aboutwas having a home. Yes, he had a home with his Granma Mary Langston, but his papawas in Mexico and his mama was trying to be a star. Langston longed for a real home. His storyteller granma did give him heroes like Booker T. Washington and Langston'sown Buffalo soldier uncles, heroes who were black, just like him. And there were thingshe lovedothe big, bright library in Kansas City, the jazzy sound of blues music on a streetcorner, and the rhythms of the Baptist Church near Auntie Reed's. But it was when he began to write, incorporating these people, places, and rhythmsinto his poetry and prose, that Langston reached people all over the world, anddiscovered where his home really was.