Hometown
What is it about Greenfield that makes people stay?
Generations of people who move houses
but they are only a few blocks away.
Is it the idea of a family as being planted
that strikes people?
Giant Sequoias of families in this one town of green.
Or white, if you get what I mean.
Roots that are so deep that you get lost in the earth.
You travel on the back of an ant,
which is acceptable,
(they often carry heavy burdens)
and slowly decend the roots.
There's my cousin. Add 15 more.
There's grandpa. And grandma.
But she's beating him with a broom.
And step-grandpa is there too.
Deeper we crawl as I see relatives
whose pictures I know
and I can guess a name
but it is all a mystery.
What is it about my house
that people love so much?
Anther root in the tree?
Over 150 years old, and
"so beautiful"?
Why don't they leave?
Why come back after college?
Why marry the high school
sweetheart?
Perhaps it is the home they
cannot leave.
It is the
unfortunate
gold standard.
the Good Ol' Days.
And the good ol' days are far and gone
the "national road" that runs through our town
And the settling of mighty Greenfield
Must've been great.
Imagine the dirt highway that runs through the center of town
Running east and west with horses pulling mail and milk carts
and mud that dries on the ladies' boots.
Imagine the money in Greenfield Banking Co.
with its two story facade facing the courthouse
because money and politics would
never coexist.
Imagine the courthouse. Its gothic glory
rising like a flag's mast
proclaiming justice for all of Hancock county
as the iron bells of the clock
echo time for everyone.
Imagine the years going by and the changes they bring.
As the dirty gives way to brick on
Ol' US 40
and horses phased out to "farms" where
children are told they'll have more room to run.
Imagine the Depression. As the gas boom ends
and they money is gone.
The terror as lines grow out of the bank
and another forms out of the courthouse.
And the backs of the last two people in line
are back
to back.
Imagine prom on the roof of the building
next to the bank.
Imagine Pickett's Hardware and
in the era of gum for a dollar,
in one visit with dad to get a few nails
and a single nickel, a handful of gum
spills forward.
Imagine the trees that started so small
and must now be cut down
because nobody expected
they'd last.
Imagine my family.
Five generations in this town
All of importance.
And the shoes to fill.
Imagine the disappointment when I leave.
Because Pickett's has closed forever.
The bank is now an ATM.
The new State Road is on the interstate
and Starbucks has invaded my safety.
