Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Potato Memoirs

I hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving. It's a holidy that has been stripped of it's original meaning (Genocide? The opressed becomming the opressors? Thanking a vindictive god for not flooding the world. Again.) It's a hollow holiday, and that's fine. It's hollow but fun.

I spent Thanksgiving this year in Pocatello, a city that I still consider my "hometown". I still know the city intimately, know the subtle way the lanes merge into each other, still know the quickest route.

Whenever I go there I get a vague sense of accomplishment. That I've gone "somewhere", done "something" with my life. I find it odd to still see the same people, working at the same place they had when I was growing up.

I drive by the house I grew up in. It was sold a few years ago, and It breaks my heart to see it now, yard overrun with weeds, elms growing where once they would be carefully pruned.

The thing is I find myself thinking that I could go back there when I'm old. To start my barber shop and probably die. I think it would be a nice bookend to my life. My youth and my old age in one place. That way if my memory ever fails me, it would still be familiar. Maybe.


Blogger Yarjka said...

I think you'd make a kickass barber.

6:36 PM  

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