DecadeWritten by hootenannie on August 18th, 2009
I grew up in a little town in western Colorado. Montrose – at least when I lived there, pre-Starbucks and Target and multiple golf courses – was very typical of small town America. We had a Dairy Queen, gossip at the beauty shop, agriculture, county fairs, rodeos, teenagers cruising Main, old trucks, and one high school.
My high school experience was like all of the stereotypical accounts shown on TV shows. The star of the football team dated the homecoming queen. The scandalous teacher ran off with the wayward student. There were fights, pregnancies, cliques. There were the popular kids and the outcasts. There were the jocks, the band nerds, the hicks, the brains.
Who was I? I think that I fell through the cracks, never really fit into one “group,” and stayed peripherally involved with a lot of different social networks. I played flute in the band, but was friends with the cheerleaders. I never took calculus, but always got A’s and B’s. I lived in a subdivision, but drove a pickup. I wasn’t anywhere near popular, but was somehow voted the prom queen. I had a lot of friends, but my best friend was homeschooled. I was fairly straight-laced, but once broke into a factory with a crowbar. I had a few dates to dances, but never a boyfriend. I went to parties, but never drank. I loved country songs and animals and baby-sitting and friends and ballet.
My parents moved away from Montrose in 2003, when I was in college in Seattle, and since then, my visits to my hometown have been few and far between. The last time I was there was over a year ago, making this the longest stretch in 20 years I have gone without setting my feet on my hometown soil.
But it’s in my blood.
I mean, let’s not turn this into a Montgomery Gentry song or anything, but it’s true. My upbringing in Montrose shaped me in ways that I cannot even pinpoint, and I feel the absence of it acutely.
After hearing through the grapevine about the class of 1999’s recent celebration, it occurred to me that my 10-year high school reunion is coming up next year. And here were my next, immediate, successive thoughts:
1) This is going to be so awkward.
2) I’m totally going.
3) I want to be in charge.
4) I am still single.
5) At least I’m still single.
Consider this my RSVP.