Monday, July 05, 2010

travel journals, part IX

Welcome to Harrison, pop. 267.

Rip Proof main street.

Library Hours. The new(ish) ibrary is where the old jail house used to be, on one side of the little field by the rip-proof building. On Saturdays in the summer there is a farmers market here. On the day that we were in town during library hours quite a few people seemed to come and go. They offer knitting classes for adults and teens. I harbor a strange little fantasy of quitting my job, fleeing New York, and working at the Harrison Library. I could teach knitting classes, really!

June 15th, 4:54pm. Sitting outside the miraculously open library, stealing their wifi. Yesterday: local fruit wine tasting, early morning walk to the road's end, reading on the deck, homemade calzones. Today: geocaching and rain and tomato soup.

One Shot Charlies got a shiny new sign! One Shot Charlies has existed as long as I can remember, going back at least to the early '80s when the grown-ups (meaning my parents' generation ) would go out for drinks maybe once a summer and leave us kids in the care of either the grandparents or the older cousins. It doesn't seem like the inside has changed much in the last 30 years, if not longer than that.

Health concerns. I don't remember these signs from when I
was a kid, and am pretty sure they're relatively recent.


Post office. One of the hardest things about an often-enough ideal childhood was being away from my friends for almost two months out of the year. Going to the post office at least once a week was a ritual with me, in the hopes of there being a postcard, a letter, a care package from friends back east. One summer in particular, following 9th grade, was the summer of Cindy & Alice & their beautiful letters and envelopes filled to the brim with scribblings and ramblings and drawings and quotes -- mostly from Pump Up the Volume, our obsession of the moment. "Being weird isn't enough." "Rise up in the cafeteria and stab them with your plastic forks." "Everything decent's been done. All the great themes have been used up and turned into theme parks." "Cease to resist, giving my goodbye / drive my car into the ocean / you'll think i'm dead but i sail away / on a wave of mutilation..." At any rate, it was a sparkling shiny day when there was something (anything) addressed to me c/o General Delivery, Harrison, Idaho, 83833.

*Italicized bits were Facebook status updates.

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