well there’s buildings in this here town
rise above the tallest mountains
the sky up there will watch you
with an unforgiving eye

and there are bridges in this here town
like statuettes in little fountains

there ain’t nothin like a mountain
if you’re looking to get high

well this whole place
it really don’t become me
there ain’t no way
to explain why

there are drugs and there are lovers
but my friend there ain’t no other
there ain’t nothing like a mountain
if you’re lookin to get high

well there’s sadness in a woman’s eyes
salty as a shallow ocean
as she’ll stare at you for ages
till your throat is hot and dry

yeah they’re movement knows no boundary
ain’t no comfort in her motion
there ain’t nothin like a woman
for to learn you how to cry

this whole place it really don’t become me
there ain’t no way
to explain why

there are friends are there are lovers
we must choose one or the other
there ain’t nothing like a woman
for to learn you how to cry

well there’s money in this here town
stained with guilt of those who made it
sharp regrets the ones who lost it
or the ones that it’s led astray

well the money in this town
stacks up taller than the buildings
in pursuit of all that money
we might piss our lives away

in this whole place it really don’t become me
there ain’t no way to explain why

there are men and there are dollars
those that lead
and the ones who follow

there ain’t no thing like an airplane
to let ‘em know you mean goodbye

there ain’t no thing like an airplane
to let ‘em know you mean goodbye

That’s more AJ Roach, “Mean Goodbye.”  You can download it here. I don’t know if I can point to one particular place in that song that fits me most.  I can’t believe I had never heard this music before Liz - it’s symbolic of our relationship how much her taste in music has changed my life.

I’ve spent my whole life leaving places.  I left home when I was 13, and never looked back.  I left Washington when I was 18, to a new life in a place I idealized - I thought New England was the symbol of success for me.  After four years at an Ivy, I gave up New England for DC, where I thought I’d find… well, I don’t know what I thought I’d find.

I grow tired of places.  Tired of Washington, tired of New England, tired now of DC… but more than that I’m tired of saying goodbye.

Let’s find a place, let’s buy a house, let’s settle down.  Anywhere but… oddly enough, New England.

I don’t usually spend a lot of time missing home.

I come from a small town in Washington State - one that doesn’t really have a lot to offer a metropolitan soul such as myself.   And by small town, I mean small town. Population roughly 3500, doubles during agricultural season.  I live on 10 acres of desert/farmland.  This town raised me, to be sure - but it also broke me in more ways than I can count.  I grew up knowing I needed more, but not knowing what kind of world existed beyond the boundaries of my little rural town.  I suffered.  And I grew.

I think it goes without saying that I can’t imagine myself ever living there again, or ever being a part of that existence.  I’m a city person.  I need the noise.  But…. nostalgia has a way of getting what it wants, no matter how hard you fight.  And there are some things that I truly believe we can only understand if we grow up in a small town.

Liz played a song for me a while ago, and when I heard it I could barely contain myself from weeping, just breaking down.  Here are the lyrics, I’ll share them with you and maybe you can understand how I feel about my home.

T he song is “Scott County” by AJ Roach.  I hadn’t heard of him until Liz introduced me.

Scott County is a habit
some find hard to break
first freeze is in October
lasting out the first of May

it’s beauty is not rivaled
in the western hemisphere
so they say
the hemisphere don’t stretch out
past the state lines anyway

but i have seen stretches of green
that run the length of day

Scott County is a woman
want to treat you like a child
the more you try to hate her
the more she’ll make you smile
and the more you try to stand up straight
the more you’ll lean against
the crooked lines
stone shoulders
the rusted barbed wire fence

Scott County is a hand-out
that some find hard to take
well I left home at 17
not a penny to my name
no sense of where I came from
and a vague of idea of where I meant to go

but, God I miss the dust
that gathers at my gravel road

God I miss the dust
that gathers at my gravel road

It’s too amazing.  I think I’m going to write more on this later.  I’m escaping at a coffee shop right now.  But I needed to fill this space a bit, and I think this song is a good introduction to who I am.


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