I Live in a Weird Little Town

I live in a little town. I have lived here for 34 years. It's dark at night and I can see the stars above the canyon walls. It's quiet and peaceful (unless I forget to put out peanuts for the jay rascals). My best friend from high school lives up the road not even 1/4 mile, though we were not raised here.

I had always wanted to move here, then one day saw an add in the local. I called, asked if it was available, it was, I said, literally, I'll take it! After a pause, the voice on the other end of the phone asked if I needed to see it. Nope. I didn't. I just wanted to live here. I could work out the fine points later.

I was on my way out of town soon, a TA on a 60-day field geology class. I packed up my things, left it all in boxes for the unseasonable weather of the White Mountains, and my roommate and our friends moved it all into a wee bit of a cabin. I took my #1 (deaf) dog (my best friend) with me on the summer TA. The other eight rescues moved.

When I returned, I drove the university jeep to my new home in the wee hours of the morning, but couldn't find it! After an hour of driving on the only (and tiny) main road, I finally spotted the green 1963 VW van, and pulled in the drive. I was praying there were not two of these green beasts in town.

To point to the year, Gordon Lightfoot had just released his album Sundown. I'm really not sure, anymore, what that year number was. To this day, I am particularly fond of Lightfoot who I consider to be one of the best ballad writers in the genre.

About a month later, my roommate and I were awakened by the most God-awful din imaginable. Sirens and clapping and singing and laughing...

Oh for God's Sake! It was a frigging parade on the barely two-car-wide main road! So we stood out in the driveway, our jammies on (well, that seemed to be the acceptable dress, so we obliged...), my deaf dalmatian at my side. The fire trucks kept stopping at our driveway begging me to climb on with the dog. In my pajamas?? Climb on a fire truck? I thought they were nuts.

I finally looked at my roommate and said, "This is the weirdest place we've ever lived. I'm staying."

Today, 34 years later, I would get on the truck in my jammies, my dog in tow. It's a little town, and we do things a little different. That suits me just fine.

Photo statements: The second is just one reason the first never goes outside. Gads look at those talons!