Discombobulated, Part 4: Home Is Where WHAT Is?

7:13 pm · category: Uncategorized

It should be obvious at this point that I’m programmed to act obsessively, because I still ocasionally dwell on the insipid details of these silly people’s lives. Because I fell in love with that roommate, and because he was scared shitless and ran off to marry an eighteen-year-old girl with burgundy hair, my psyche got all knotted up. I began to worry that there was something wrong with me because I was twenty-five and single. I was convinced I could hear my biological clock tick-tick-ticking away.

It’s no wonder I felt this way. My peers – that is, people my age with whom I’m supposed to share certain ideals, values and experiences – had all married and had children, although not necessarily in that order.

When we really were peers – when we actually shared certain ideals and values – we all wanted to get degrees and make something of ourselves and get the hell out of Dodge. In our cases, “Dodge” was Bald Knob.

Now my peers have spouses and 2.3 kids and a sad old dog lying underneath the unsecured underpinning of their doublewides in the town where the Ozarks meet the Delta*.

I teach eighth grade English at my alma mater and live with my parents.

Talk about irony!

*”Where the Ozarks meet the Delta” is Bald Knob’s town slogan. If one stands in the middle of town and looks east, one can clearly see the flat plains of the Delta. And if one stands in the same spot and looks north, one can clearly see the foothills of the Ozark Mountains. Bald Knob used to be the Strawberry Capital of the World, but then a draught in the early 1980s resulted in Chadbourn, North Carolina, garnering said distinction. All Bald Knob is known for now is this. (Which is silly, because it’s a watermelon that looks like a pickle. But the Basingers, who own the produce market, are good people.)

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