I'm Looking At Ghosts and Empties

What does the term “hometown” mean? Is it always “the town where you spent your childhood years? For folks who grew up as military brats or, in my case, an academic brat (my father after his MA, Ph.D and then the almost elusive quest for a tenure track gig) maybe hometown is something that hits later. Maybe it’s something you make for yourself.

When I was 14 my family moved to Elm Street in Indiana, Pennsylvania. Indiana is a college town 70 miles, more or less, north east of Pittsburgh (or Pikksburgh in the native tongue). This is the 9th and final place I lived with them and without question the unhappiest of places.  A good bit of this dearth of happy probably had to do with all those fun teenage hormone fireworks. You know, I do believe that being angsty and ennui laden, with a soupçon of drama queeny sadness is de rigueur at that age.

Of course, the band of teenaged, bit brained, malicious, ninnyhammered, insipid, conform-or-else twatwaffles who harassed and bullied me throughout all my high school years might have had something to do with my low enjoyment levels too. Quite possibly.

Despite the mountain of time that’s passed, despite being a full fledged card carrying wicked (that’s Boston speak, thank you so much) mature adult, visiting Indiana always lights a little Bic of insecurity in me. So many ghosts and vile memories fill the town -- street by street.

OK, now I have this tremendous song playing on the internal juke box. Yea!

On Saturday early morning, Jen and I were heading to this town of punk ass ghosts to visit my decidedly non-robust folks. While they took their afternoon nap Jen and I had a walk around town. I showed her where my first job was (candy girl at the now gone Manus Theater -- a big old Vaudeville joint), where the big department store, Brody’s, (filled with fabulous and unaffordable treasure), used to be and finally, the art and music buildings on the campus of the college -- places where I finally found friendship and serenity as well as some amazing teachers.

I was happy and relieved to find that, while the ghosts still lurk, they’ve been defanged (yeah, ghosts can have fangs -- they’re not all Casper don’t ya know).

About damn time, I’d say.