Truly.

The first town I lived in, less than 100 people. We lived 6 miles south of town. I grew up on a farm with cattle that pretty much got out of their pens a lot. I spent the majority of my time in a play pen, under the shade of the tree, with the cattle getting awfully close. Our dog, Blitz, would stand guard, apparently, and growl when they got too close. We moved when my brother was adopted to a bigger house, 8 miles up the road.

To a new town, 400 people. I graduated with 21 classmates, but three were exchange students. Most of those, though, I started Kindergarten with. I think in the end, 12 of us had started and ended that journey together. I can still tell you their hometown phone numbers, all their sisters, brothers, parents names, everything.

A few (very true) examples:

1. We had one blinking stoplight.
2. On more than on occasion, I had to pull over while Emily's chickens were figuring out which side of the road they were going to go on.
3. I was late to school because I would get stuck behind Kenny driving his tractor.
4. We had a great old movie theater - cost 1.50. Soda was .50 cents and popcorn was .25. And the guy that owned it had to crawl up into a little space in the ceiling to get to the projection room.
5. You went to the movie on the weekend (which was always about a month or two late after the release - I remember a HUGE LINE for "Top Gun") and then spent the rest of the night dragging main.
6. Picking up the phone to call your cousin and someone else was on it already - damn party lines!

It was really, truly - the John Mellencamp song - a small town. Old men sitting around the coffee shop, talking about the weather we weren't getting and the crops that weren't growing. Church ladies holding bake sales and sending postcards if you missed a morning of church (which rarely, if ever, happened.)

I still read my hometown newspaper. I still read the "What's Happening" column and find out about this person, that person. Baby announcements and obituaries. Some friends have left (like me), others hang around.

I opened up the paper today and laughed when I saw "Cow Patty Bingo" and how the tickets are still available. And how a man won the "Golden Wheat Award". My dad once won the "Golden Chicken Award" in 4-H back in the 50's. That's still funny to me. He didn't feel like trying, so just picked up a chicken, took it in, and found out later he won.

Today, I miss my hometown. I miss being able to sit outside on my patio, watching the storms roll in and drinking mom's sweet iced tea.




I miss hearing my dad on the CB radio asking when dinner might be ready. And I miss watching my brother try yet again to launch a rocket in the back yard that he'd been carefully building for days and days. (and then once, he succeeded, and the effin' rocket landed and started a fire in our pasture) I miss walking a 1/2 mile to our mailbox, down a dirt road, thinking I really hate rattlesnakes and pray God one didn't some slithering out from the ditch. I'd hear those little bastards shaking their tails, but only encountered one once.


If I close my eyes, I'm there. I'm sitting in the grass on our east lawn, watching the clouds, and dreaming about what life will be like when I finally get out of this little town. When I finally graduate and meet REAL BOYS and become a famous musician or a famous author.

I don't know if I'd tell myself then what it would be like now. I'd like to think I'd just tell myself to enjoy that innocent time and savor every second ...



... "Bobby told Lucy, "The world ain't round...
Drops off sharp at the edge of town
Lucy, you know the world must be flat
'Cause when people leave town, they never come back"
They go ninety miles an hour to the city limits sign
Put the pedal to the metal 'fore they change their mind
They howl at the moon, shoot out the light
It's a small town Saturday night" ...