Don’t Tell A Soul

Friday mornings- the happiest weekday mornings because it’s almost over. You can forget your misgivings, and your desire to pack up your Hello Kitty desk accessories and run. You go to Starbucks on the way to allergy shots. Those days, you find yourself wandering a different kind of office and, every once in a while, doors pop open revealing scary grey cubicle worlds inside. Threatening you with their businessy pants and microwaved Lean Cuisines for lunch. Ah, what fluorescent hells which send you scurrying back to the safety of primary colors and peanut butter cups. The devils in the details.

Recollections of a young woman upon her return from visiting family in Western Massachusetts 

Kevin vacuming the cat; I could watch that video all day. Crunchy towels. Bees nest in the basement, be careful going outside. Red Rose lasagna, and Pajer’s grinders. Friendly’s. Foliage in Vermont. Bash Bish Falls. Drive to NY with two ten-year-old boys in the car who know I “won’t put up with any shit” and will “turn this fucking car around”. Knightsville Dam. Ski lift and alpine slide. The Virgin Mary of East Springfield. Pictures of people who think they see baby jesus in the streaks on a magical window. Whiskey sours. BBQ chicken and cheesy potatoes at Auntie Lissa’s. Photo albums at my grandparent’s new condo. My mom: nothing but a pretty blue vase of ashes buried in the dry dirt? The rose headstone looks beautiful and I brought the flowers you like. Am I talking to nothing? Dad’s birthday. Marble cake, and the presidential debate. No need for a drinking game with this crowd. Lisa, come with me, he won’t ask me for the money if you’re there. Katie’s birthday too- Max’s Tavern, and it couldn’t have gone better. Number of times John Couger Mellancamp was heard on Rock 102: 4. Number of times it was “Jack and Diane”: 2. Ah, the big suburban grocery stores, with their wide aisles and superior variety of selections. Lots of fat people, and grown women in pajama bottoms. At least the men don’t wear Crocs here. One-way streets, and narrow roads. Every one’s car is a piece of shit. California doesn’t exist. G—– doesn’t exist. Boston never existed, I must have never left because nothing has ever changed.

People who have lived in LA for a long time are very nonchalant about these things but, I won’t lie, I was scared! Today’s quake was the worst I’ve felt since I’ve been out here. While it happened, it seemed like no one had any idea where to go or what to do. We all just kinda sat there waiting to see if it was going to get stronger or stop.

When it’s over, people talk about it, and share memories of past earthquakes. Then they just go about their business. After work I went for a bike ride down the pretty streets lined with tall palm trees, and told myself “I love LA”, despite not being able to even count on the very ground beneath my feet. So what else is new?

Sometimes I just want put everything in storage, take all of my money, and travel around the world for a year to “find myself”. But then I think, what if I didn’t find myself? What if I came back broke, with no job, no Santa Monica rent-controlled apartment, and no great novel to show for it?

Whenever I plan a trip back to Springfield, it’s with mixed emotions. I’m excited to see my family, and the one friend I have left there, but it’s also so damn depressing.

It really is a sad, strange place. You’ve got small towns, small minds, two-lane highways, and pickup trucks. Count how many times you hear “Jack and Diane” on the radio, it’s like a game. But the small towns surround one of the worst cities gone wrong I’ve ever seen. I bet you’ve never even heard of Springfield Mass., but did you know it’s the 32nd most dangerous city in America? 3000 miles away, I almost dropped my morning coffee the day I heard that on CNN.

I’ve been fortunate in my life to have traveled to some of America’s largest cities. But in downtown Springfield, I won’t even get out of my car. It’s even dangerous in the car- I thought I was about to get carjacked once from the parking lot of Store24 in the South End while my brother was inside buying phone cards. Later that night, we were slowly driving up Main St., slowly because people kept walking in front of the car.

“What the fuck is the matter with these people?” There are crosswalks, and corners, and traffic lights- why don’t people use them?

“You have to be careful,” my brother said, “they want you to hit them. That’s how they get money.”