My home town catches a lot of crap. I grew up constantly hearing from out-of-towners just how ugly it is. When I moved away I thought that would end. Nope. I've met several people out in the world who are familiar with my hometown, and none of them have had something positive to say about it. Out of the blue, a speaker in a church service several weeks ago (in West Texas) made comments about growing up in a little Wyoming town that was "ten times uglier than here." It was my hometown. Now, I'll grant that there is a lot of exposed dirt in Rock Springs, Wyoming. The town itself will never be on any top ten travel lists for scenery. Still, it's not that bad. At least it's not flat. I'd take it over where I'm at in a heartbeat.
In fact, Rock Springs is a hub for awesome scenery. Five minutes south of town is an immense juniper forest with gorgeous rock formations. The south also has a large reservoir with many tall cliffs that constantly tried to kill me in my teen years (it wasn't my fault I 'fell' off them every time I got near, I swear). To the north is the world-class scenery of the Wind River mountains - a spiritual Mecca for me. To the east are massive sand dunes, and more incredible rock formations. Honestly, I'm happy that the town itself isn't much to look at, because it keeps the population down. What the ignorant don't know means the scenery stays more pristine.
Regardless of the small population, I still have a lot of people in Rock Springs that mean the world to me. If I could move back tomorrow, I would. I've only been able to live in Rock Springs for 18 months of my adult life. And those were 18 really good months for me.
I get so homesick that I visit this website three to four times per week. It's just a web camera showing a section of interstate running through my hometown. Nothing special. But I worked for a year at the Flying J truck stop in the background with my brother Mike when I was just out of high school. We'd work the night shift on Friday nights, go play paintball in the hills all day Saturday, and then come back and work the night shift again on little or no sleep. Good times.
The mountain (really a plateau) in the background is where the sun sets for a lot of the year, and I can't count how many gorgeous Wyoming sunsets I've seen right there. They are so much cleaner and crisper than the humid and hazy sunsets here, which seem to all look exactly alike.
There are a couple other web cameras in the immediate area that I also check, just to get a feel for what it's like back home at the moment. Sometimes I can actually imagine smelling the sagebrush, or feeling the dry, high altitude wind. Sometimes I can actually trick myself into imagining I'm there.
I've lived in California. I've lived in Virginia. I've lived in Colorado and Texas. I even lived in Hawaii for four years. I'd trade em' all just to be able to see a certain Flying J truck stop in person every day.
P.S. For a much better post about my hometown, just read this, from one of my favorite people on the planet.
I wonder how many more hits your blog will get now that it contains a reference to porn. Savvy marketing, there.
ReplyDeleteThe sunsets are indeed amazing. Maybe that's God's way of saying "sorry for all the dirt and wind".
The probable title of my first blog post - whenever I get around to starting my blog - concerns the subject at hand. You are completely right about Rock Springs as are the detractors. What you focus on is what you get.
ReplyDeleteI spent most of the past two and half years learning exactly what is special about Rock Springs. I became intimate with the silent heartbeat of the city, an undercover brother from the same mother hunting the night in search of meaning and redemption ... but I digress into pulp fiction (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pulp_magazine).
What I mean to say is that riding on two wheels, a prayer, and a face full of wind-whipped snot trails is a sublime way to explore the nether regions of a supposed stanky, neglected armpit of a town. Yeah.
And yes, as I sit in a posh gated community called home by honored citizen Lawrence Taylor, I miss Rock Springs too.
A moment of silence for the departed, please.
Whenever my in-laws come to visit they still express surprise that we have trees in our neighborhood. One of the best/worst things about Rock Springs is that the interstate passes through a very dry and industrial part of town. Sam's family comes in through Elk Street, gets on the interstate to go west, and they think they've seen the town.
ReplyDeleteNow, here's my question. What do you say when somebody says something negative? Especially in church? I HATE answering the question, "So, where do you live?" when we go back to Powell to visit. If we're lucky we'll just get a smirk, but more often it's something like, "We'll try not to hold it against you."
I haven't managed anything more clever than a stone-faced stare. It being church and all, I suppose I should exhibit Christian forgiveness.
I hope our scattered family does end up a little closer someday - whether in Rock Springs or elsewhere. And one of us needs to get obscenely rich so we can own/rent some huge house and everybody go stay there for a week periodically.
"It being church and all, I suppose I should exhibit Christian forgiveness."
ReplyDeleteI suggest Islamic vindictiveness.
I think we will all end up closer someday, if only when we're buried in the same cemetery.
I'm working on the obscenely rich bit as fast as I can. But maybe I should buy some burial plots at the cemetery for the likely scenario where obscenely rich doesn't pan out.
ReplyDeleteAnd Jason, watch out for Jill. Taylor's alleged rape victim was a sixteen-year-old. A rampaging coke-head could easily mistake such a petite woman for a young runaway. Of course, from Jill's descriptions of her own temper, maybe Taylor should be the one running scared. ;)