There’s this facebook page that I sometimes go to. It’s called “you know you’re from (this stinking town)…”It a place for the old timers to post things for trips down memory lane together. It is kind of sweet in a corny kind of way. And it is definitely amateur. I’m not an old timer here. I’ve been only 20 years. I guy I used to work with at the newspaper posts there a lot and I like to see the old pictures of town when the world was in black and white.
In Portage Le Prairie, one morning I went out to the end of the road to see if I could spot the oil change place. On the way back, a young lady (lol, she wasn’t that young or ladylike) speaking with another (in a late model silver minivan) asked if I was looking for a place for breakfast.
“No” I said, “I’m looking for the oil change place”.
She then proceeded to give me directions to the place I already knew where was.
I cut her off and told her that I knew where it was but then I felt a little guilty. She was just being helpful, so I said, “Nice looking town you have here”.
That was a mistake. She proceeded to tell me of the town’s drug problem (meth, she said, which is so ten years ago) and how her daughter is a druggie, but that she has the granddaughter which is apple of her eye, the sunshine of her life and the lake that floats her boat. Shit. I gotta go. I was just looking to see if I could see the oil change place for christ sake.
People spoke differently back in the 70s. I remember a girl in my grade six class said that something ‘sucked’. I was appalled. You can’t say that in school. But you could. You could say and do a lot of things in those times.
Nostalgia is pretty good, but it’s not what it used to be.
I have come to think that writing things down here is a way of voicing my opinion, being heard but without actually conversing with anyone.
Sherri shows up late and weighs a ton but she can get things done.
Burrito Donkey is not a comfortable place. It is built it seems to service the after hours drunk university crowd. The furniture is very uncomfortable and the place is dark. the floor is ceramic and the tables and chairs are aluminium. It’s like they can hose the whole place down at the end of the day. I can imagine the puke splattered everywhere.
The Chinese say that a journey of a thousand miles starts with the first step. I have a lot of questions about this.
- Is the first step on the right foot or the left foot?
- Why do they have to go so far?
- Can’t they just stay closer to home?
- Did they consider taking the bus?
- What do you pack for a trip like that?