Anywhere But Here
1. The Sad Town
The government decided to take away our post office that year. When I look back on it, I really think that was one of the last straws for that town. People 'round those parts started to feel more isolated than ever. No post meant no letters; in or out. Considering the closest towns with gasoline was 30 miles away in either direction, people just felt even more helpless without the post.
People would tell us kids, that one day, all them populated cities surrounding us would swallow up our little town like a big ole' catfish. I didn't believe them none, and I still don't even after leaving there. That town is sad town. No city folk with their big dreams would dare set foot on that red dirt with building plans for a shopping mall. Anything born there was destined to fail, or so the people though. I guess history taught them that lesson. Most people born there never got out.
I thought it too. Even after leaving, ever' little rough patch that came 'bout in my I blamed on Bigelow. I blamed that hot river valley for my spotted skin. I blamed my depression on all those potholes in the roads and the cracks in the buildings. Sadness was in all of it, and when the wind blew, it stuck to all of us like gum-ball burrs in August.
I guess it wasn't all bad. There just wasn't nothing to keep the youth from getting into trouble. That's why if you go there now, you'll see graffiti on ever' street sign, road, and house. We were far from artists or hooligans, but what else was there to do in a town of 329 people?
Most of the people I went to school with are still there. They either got knocked up by their sweet-heart, got themselves a hard labor job working on the oil fields, or turned to the life of a meth user. That is probably one of the most hurtful things to see; the quarterback of my football team as skinny as a bean pole and covered in sores.
'Bout 90% of us fell below the poverty line, 'less you were a Johnson or a Gibson and owned all the land for farming, but most of us didn't have that luxury. Because everything was destined to fail, most people escaped that harsh reality the best way they knew how; with drugs or alcohol.
Although it was a dry town, and the government told us we couldn't sell no liquor in our store, most people took it upon themselves to provide the town with moonshine whiskey, and that's just what they did. Apple pie moonshine has got to be the only thing I miss about that place besides my mama and daddy...
Well, there is one other thing I miss. I miss the boy that stole my heart all those years ago. He wasn't born in Bigelow. Most people that moved to Bigelow, moved back out to where they came from within a year, but he was different. He like it there. He made the town seem happy and alive with southern charm again, even though he was from northern Minnesota. I miss the way his eyes shined in the starlight down by the riverbank. I miss his funny way of talking and that crooked little smile that always lit up his entire face...
I guess it was never meant to be, 'cause if it was, I'd be married up, living in some uptown mansion in Georgia or Tennessee. I might have even settled for Little Rock, just as long as I was with him. That's the way I use to picture it, when I was only seventeen and stupid.
I blame the town for that too sometimes, even though things were beyond it's control. Everything born here was destined to fail, even young love, I guess I knew it all along, but didn't want to admit it. It was doomed from the start....
People would tell us kids, that one day, all them populated cities surrounding us would swallow up our little town like a big ole' catfish. I didn't believe them none, and I still don't even after leaving there. That town is sad town. No city folk with their big dreams would dare set foot on that red dirt with building plans for a shopping mall. Anything born there was destined to fail, or so the people though. I guess history taught them that lesson. Most people born there never got out.
I thought it too. Even after leaving, ever' little rough patch that came 'bout in my I blamed on Bigelow. I blamed that hot river valley for my spotted skin. I blamed my depression on all those potholes in the roads and the cracks in the buildings. Sadness was in all of it, and when the wind blew, it stuck to all of us like gum-ball burrs in August.
I guess it wasn't all bad. There just wasn't nothing to keep the youth from getting into trouble. That's why if you go there now, you'll see graffiti on ever' street sign, road, and house. We were far from artists or hooligans, but what else was there to do in a town of 329 people?
Most of the people I went to school with are still there. They either got knocked up by their sweet-heart, got themselves a hard labor job working on the oil fields, or turned to the life of a meth user. That is probably one of the most hurtful things to see; the quarterback of my football team as skinny as a bean pole and covered in sores.
'Bout 90% of us fell below the poverty line, 'less you were a Johnson or a Gibson and owned all the land for farming, but most of us didn't have that luxury. Because everything was destined to fail, most people escaped that harsh reality the best way they knew how; with drugs or alcohol.
Although it was a dry town, and the government told us we couldn't sell no liquor in our store, most people took it upon themselves to provide the town with moonshine whiskey, and that's just what they did. Apple pie moonshine has got to be the only thing I miss about that place besides my mama and daddy...
Well, there is one other thing I miss. I miss the boy that stole my heart all those years ago. He wasn't born in Bigelow. Most people that moved to Bigelow, moved back out to where they came from within a year, but he was different. He like it there. He made the town seem happy and alive with southern charm again, even though he was from northern Minnesota. I miss the way his eyes shined in the starlight down by the riverbank. I miss his funny way of talking and that crooked little smile that always lit up his entire face...
I guess it was never meant to be, 'cause if it was, I'd be married up, living in some uptown mansion in Georgia or Tennessee. I might have even settled for Little Rock, just as long as I was with him. That's the way I use to picture it, when I was only seventeen and stupid.
I blame the town for that too sometimes, even though things were beyond it's control. Everything born here was destined to fail, even young love, I guess I knew it all along, but didn't want to admit it. It was doomed from the start....