Epilogue?

I’m sorry for the lack of updates.  I’ve been busy with my other projects, of which the main one is my new son.  He just turned three months about five or so days ago.  I’ve also been trying to figure out how to wrap up this small chapter in my life.

I’m still not sure why I became so fixated on Farmington earlier this year.  I started this blog just to write about it, and that concept doesn’t lend itself to a long life.  I’ve covered most of what happened on the trip, or at least what I remember.  Next August it will have been twenty-five years since that month in 1984.  I have one of the best memories of anyone I know, but even for me it’s getting hazy.

Part of me wanted to go back to Farmington in 2008, but financially and time-wise (the start of my family) it just didn’t make sense.  I don’t think driving across the country with a one year old next summer is a great idea, so I don’t think I’ll get back anytime soon.  I will get back there someday, and maybe I’ll find whatever it is I thought I was going to find this past year.

Anyway, back in 1984 things returned to normal.  The kids in school, who picked on me a bit, were all happy to see me back in Veblen.  Everyone was quite surprised that I was back.  “Didn’t you move?” was the common question, but I got some chuckles spinning that answer for a few days.  They didn’t have enough desks the first day I was back, so I had to sit at a table in the back of the classroom.  My scout troop left a note wishing me farewell, and since I was back I could have gone back, but I didn’t.  I was never that into the scout thing, so I just let that lapse.  My mother and her boyfriend resumed their relationship, and were married a few years later.  My brother was transferred from Farmington to Minnesota, then to Arizona, then someplace else I think (he wasn’t there long) and finally he landed…in Pierre.  He’s been there for a while, and I’ve been there to see him a few times.  I still love the city of Pierre, and Dakotamart was still open the last time I was there in July.  My mother and brother patched things up, and now they seem to be quite okay with each other.  I tried talking to my mom about Farmington once or twice, but she doesn’t like talking about “horrible” things.  I’m not sure what was so horrible, but she has a unique way with words.

I was going to delete this blog a bit after it was over, or I was going to reboot it with a new topic or focus.  I’ve decided to let it sit here until I actually get back to Farmington.  I’ll have a place to share the experience , but don’t expect many updates until then (my blogroll links on the side are other places I write, in case this wasn’t enough).  My little man is stirring from his nap, so on this final update until a later date, I wish you all a great 2009, and Farmington…I hope to see you soon.

Veblen, South Dakota (arrival)

I almost don’t want to title this blog “Veblen, SD”.  It is the town I grew up in (except for that month in 1984) and just one blog with that name seemed painfully inadequate.  Still, as I’ve been documenting the journey taken back then, each destination was mentioned in the title.  So, rather than change it now, I’ll press on.

My mom wanted to get an early start in Big Springs, Nebraska.  I’ve never been much of an early riser, and even in 1984 I was tough to wake up.  My mom was able to get me up and at ‘em, and back to the eatery by the hotel where we had supper.  I’m pretty sure I had some kind of cereal there, and my mind tells me it was either Special K or Rice Krispies.  I’m not sure what my mom ate, but I’m guessing it consisted mostly of a cigarette and black coffee.  I don’t remember much of what she ate on the trip at all, and that probably isn’t too surprising.  What kids make a note of what their parents eat?  I was so very tired, and I didn’t want to be up and at ‘em at 5:30 AM.  My mom was eager to get going, and she told me I could sleep in the truck as we drove East.  So, I arranged the seat-belt in such a way that I could get some sleep.  I must have slept most of the morning, but it wasn’t a restful sleep.  What seemed like every few seconds, a semi truck shot past us.  My mom isn’t exactly a slow driver, but she’s no lead-foot either.  For a few hours, I would sleep and occasionally open my eyes to watch a truck fly by, and usually gone before I could see what it was carrying or what was written on the side.  It was on that drive that I think I most wanted to be a truck driver.  They seemed to be moving so much faster than we were, and they had someplace to go that may have been totally new to them.  This drive was nothing new to me, as the rest of the way was already road I knew.  My wife hates the fact I’m always looking for new ways to go places, or that sometimes I want to take a bit of a scenic route.  She’s all about getting from point to point quickly, where I like to see things I’ve never seen before on the drive.  That might be the topic for another blog another day.

I gave up trying to sleep around 9 AM or so, and not too long after that we rolled into North Platte.  I double checked the map, and told my mom what road we needed to get on to head North to South Dakota.  The drive North was a lot more scenic than the previous several hours on the Interstate.  I remember quite a few more trees popping up, and some twists in the road.  My mom’s mood had changed slightly as well.  Rather than being worn down and pensive, she seemed happier and more focused on the destination.  Once we crossed into South Dakota, my navigation had its first challenge.

We drove North to Interstate 90, and then we had to drive Eastward again.  My mom was suddenly annoyed with me, as she thought we were much closer to Pierre than I had let on.  I insisted this is exactly the way my brother had taken us, and that Pierre wasn’t that close to Nebraska (the town is practically in the middle of the state).  This back and forth went on for a few miles, until we hit the Pierre exit.  She thought that Pierre was going to be right off the exit, but we still had 30 miles of driving before then.  She was mad at me, but I insisted on pleading my case.  Eventually, she dropped it and said something to the effect of “well I just misunderstood you” or something like that.  30 miles of grassland and a few hills later, we pulled into Pierre, South Dakota once again, and I talked her into stopping at the Red Owl Superstore.

The Red Owl Superstore is one of my favorite places of all time to go to.  Some of my first memories of wide aisles of toys, Charles Schulz books on the shelf, and elevator rides were at the Red Owl Superstore in Pierre.  It seemed to have everything that Stavig’s in Sisseton didn’t, and it had an elevator, which gave me that big city feeling.  Every trip to Pierre when my brother lived there wound up at the Red Owl Superstore at some point.  I still have my die-cast Millennium Falcon that my parents bought me, along with a few Peanuts books.  The store is still there, but since Red Owl faded away it has become a store called Dakotamart.  I’ve been there a few times, and it’s mostly the same.  It doesn’t seem as impressive or magical anymore, but it still demands I go to it every time I’m in Pierre.

Anyway, back in September of 1984 I was in the Red Owl superstore, and I was looking for a new Star Wars figure.  I was all about Star Wars action figures then, but I should have seen the end of that hobby coming fast.  Jedi had been out for a year, and it wasn’t the same since most of the bad guys were dead, and the rebels had won.  I didn’t find any Star Wars figures, but I found something better.  Something I didn’t know I wanted, but I knew I wanted it when i saw it.  There, on the shelf, were Optimus Prime and Megatron.  I’d seen a few commercials for this new Transformers line here and there, but I’d never seen them in a store, and they looked so freakin’ cool it hurt.  I wanted both, but I couldn’t have both.  It turned out that at twenty dollars a robot, my mom didn’t have the resources to buy me either.  I was usually a pro at twisting my mom’s arm into buying me toys, but she just didn’t have the money.  I remember going back and looking at her, but her tired face kept telling me no, even though I knew deep down she wanted to say yes.  I wonder if she was thinking about the past month of uprooting ourselves only to try to replant ourselves back in Veblen after giving up on New Mexico.  Maybe I’m just assigning what I’d like to think she was thinking at the time.  I think a more realistic thought in her mind was “hurry up, I want to go home.”  So, Optimus Prime and Megatron would have to wait to come home with me.  I’ll never know what became of the two in Pierre, but I found mine in Wahpeton, North Dakota and Sisseton, South Dakota.  My mom was willing to buy me an action figure, since she had about five dollars to spare.  There were no Star Wars figures in stock, but there was one action figure of equal size left.  All alone, on the shelf by my mom, was Cobra Commander from the G.I. Joe line, in all his original chrome dome glory.  Anyone who knows me knows that while a big Transformer fan, I’m more a G.I. Joe fan.  I started my G.I. Joe collection about a year or so later, thanks to WGN showing “The Revenge of Cobra” and my luck in finding a Zartan figure.  I decided that I’d rather go home with nothing if I couldn’t get Optimus or Megatron, so Cobra Commander didn’t find a home that day.  I eventually found several Cobra Commanders for my collection, but no original ones until I got a lucky bid in on eBay about six years ago.

Looking back now, it is a bit odd that on my way back home, I had a chance to prematurely embrace the two toy and cartoon lines that I would be a fan of to this day, and that my enjoyment in making up stories for them would allow me to eventually make up stories for role playing games, which led me to making some of my best friends, which led me to come out of my shell more, which led me to take chances…which in a way led me to meeting my wife.  Maybe that’s taking it a bit too far, but for the sake of making that trip to the Red Owl Superstore overly important, I’ll say it isn’t.

The drive from Pierre to Veblen was a total blur.  My mom and I were ready to put an end to this month long experiment.  I wanted to get back to my friends in school, and I’m sure my mom wanted to get back to her boyfriend (and soon my step-dad).  Our house was being looked after by a dear old friend, and I was already dealing with the fact I’d never see my cat again.  We took her out to a farm because she couldn’t go with us, and she’d ran off sometime between us leaving and my mom deciding to come back.  Part of me wondered if anything in Veblen had changed, but nothing in Veblen ever changed back then.  We rolled into our old driveway, keyed into our old house, and decided to unpack the next day.  Just like that, we were back and like we had never left.  It was almost more like a vacation than a move, but it was no vacation.  It was an experience I’ll never forget, but one I didn’t think about much for a long time.

Now that I’ve recounted the journey to and from Farmington, New Mexico, there’s the matter of what to do with this blog.  I’ll work on that for the epilogue, as I hope to do one more blog about going back to school, and how things did change in the following weeks, months and years.  Plus, I’m hoping to find time to reread everything I’ve posted in the last few months, and figure out how to bring this story to a proper close.

Visitor guidance

I was hoping to write more often.  Wait, that’s what I should be doing here.  Anyway, what I was meaning to say was that I was hoping to stretch blogging about the Farmington Visitor Guide for some time longer, but there isn’t much past page 34 that really gets my mind working.  The guide goes on to talk about the Native American culture of the area, a subject of which I had little use then and in the time since my education on the matter has been lacking.  There’s still much of the local Native American culture of the area I now reside in that I should know better.  After that, the guide talks about Arts and Entertainment, followed by a calendar of events.  The one movie I saw in Farmington was Ghostbusters, which should count for something.  Other than that, my entertainment was watching the Los Angeles newscast and the independent channel that had old Battlestar Galactica reruns on.  I never heard much about events, except for one parade I skipped going to that didn’t appeal to me, as I’ve never really been a big parade fan.  By looking at the calendar of events, I’d guess the parade tied in with the San Juan County Fair (mainly because that was the only parade listed for August).

Part of my entertainment also involved walking to school.  My mom gave me rides to school most days, even though I lived in town and within ten minutes walking distance from school.  In Farmington, the three days I went to school involved me walking every time.  It was a really weird experience at the Farmington school.  I went from my own desk in a class of thirteen to sitting at a long table, with kids all around me (one of three tables in the room).  I don’t remember my teacher’s name, but he had a beard and seemed like a very nice person.  The only thing he’d planned on assigning that I took some umbrage with was collecting insect specimens.  I’ve never been a fan of getting my hands dirty, much less touching insects.  My awkward moments were at lunch and recess.  Lunch wasn’t bad, but I remember that recess was brief and went by pretty slowly, as I didn’t know anyone, and no one seemed to be in a hurry to get to know me.  Part of it was my overpowering shyness, and part of it was being the new kid, so I hold no ill will towards the school or the students.  My fondest memory of the school was the one day of gym.  I don’t remember what the game was called, nor do I remember the exact rules, but I know I wasn’t horrible at it, and since nobody knew I was not athletically gifted, I didn’t do too bad.  The main thing I remember was throwing a bunch of nerf footballs back and forth, and that the gym teacher was very encouraging.

I’ve written about the gas station and the grocery store, but other than that I don’t remember much about Farmington.  I remember my mom trying to find a good doctor, because I was often sick as a child.  I remember going somewhere to talk to a phone company, and a few other car trips that had a purpose of some kind, but one that is lost to my hazy childhood memories.  I’ve never really thought of what my mom did while I was in school those three days.  She went from tending a house to a one-bedroom apartment, and she hasn’t worked very much in her life.  She came from the stay-at-home mom era, and now she was staying home in a town that she didn’t know, with a lot less to do, with no garden, lawn or real cleaning to do that wouldn’t take a short bit of time.  It makes the set up for this next part make a bit more sense, and leads me to believe that staying would have been a bad idea.

It was a Thursday night, and I walked into the kitchen and saw a glass of apple juice on the ktichen island.  “Apple juice for me?  Thanks mom” I said, but she was doing dishes and didn’t hear me.  I was a thirsty young lad, so I downed the apple juice with a big gulp.  The problem was that it wasn’t apple juice.  It was straight whiskey.  It was all I could do to not gag and throw up everywhere.  The whiskey came right back up and all of it went back into the glass.  I retreated to our bathroom and did my best to not throw up.  I was suddenly very tired and my stomach was all kinds of not right, so I went to bed, a fact that surprised my mom a great deal (I was never one to willingly go to bed on time).  She kept me home from school Friday, and I never saw the next seven days coming.  After leaving my only home, leaving behind my small class, and a state I’d grown to love quite a bit, I had been coming to terms with living in this far away place, and I was starting to like it.

Seven days later I was back in Veblen, not to leave until college.

Googol vs. Google

Before I finish up the Farmington visitor guide, I thought I’d take a little diversion.

In 1984 I knew only of a googol as a very large number once used in a gag in the Peanuts comic strip (I believe Schoeder told Lucy the odds of them getting married are a googol to one).  In 2008 we have the search engine Google, which I decided to utilize to find some blogs about day to day life in the city.  Granted, most bloggers probably don’t talk about their hometowns much, and some do but don’t actually identify what town they’re in, and I understand the need to do that in some cases.

I tried wordpress first, but the results I found for Farmington and New Mexico were rather sparse, and I only found entries and no actual blogs about living in the actual city.  So, off to Google’s blog search.

Early results by relevance weren’t looking good.  The library had some nice info-blogs, but nothing that really caught my notice.  Then came a blog froma job site that was looking for a nurse.  After clicking through a few more pages that just seemed to mention Farmington as a city to drive through, I went to the main Google search and did a search for “Farmington”, “New Mexico” and “blog”.  I found my own blog on page two of the search, so I’m thinking that this will be a lot tougher than I thought.

On a lark, I checked YouTube for something, and I found the city’s promotional video that appears on the Farmington web site.  While not reminding me of anything of my time there, it does give a glimpse of some of the things I’ve been writing about recently.  Well, mostly.  If you make it to the end, you’ll see the video is from 2001.

Image header a go-go…gone?

So today I checked in to see how things were going, and my custom image header was gone.  I have no idea why.  I found a different one, but much like the last one I’m not happy with it. 

I had a new part all ready to go in my head, but then my brain started to shut down for the night.  That’s the pratfall of trying to write blogs at 1 AM.

I’ll shoot for a new installment tonight.  Sorry for the delays.