Educated In A Small Town, Taught The Fear Of Jesus In A Small Town, Used To Daydream In That Small Town, Another Boring Romantic, That's Me
"Small Town (cover)" - Leesha Harvey
Sierra Madre isn't exactly everyone's idea of California. It's a tiny, little villa on the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains. At most there's a little over twelve thousand people there. By most people's definition, that's not a small town. However, when you live right next to Pasadena, which has over 100,000 people and are about ten minutes out of Los Angeles proper, which has about 3.8 million people in it, you can consider Sierra Madre a small town. At least that's what it felt like to me growing up. I knew all the businesses in downtown Sierra Madre, which, by the way you could cross on foot in about five minutes one way and about five seconds the other way. I used to ride my bike with brothers and cousins up and down Sierra Madre Boulevard, which was the main thoroughfare through the city. I went to four different schools in the Sierra Madre area, including where I spent of my school days, St. Rita's, from second grade to eighth grade. It was my tiny hamlet away from the rest of the world.
I don't know--lately, it seems like all my familiar haunts are starting to be replaced one by one. It began when they tore down the local Fuddrucker's, which I must have spent three years of my life total in. Whether it was riding down on bikes with my cousins and brother during the summer months or just walking down after classes at La Salle High--Fudd's was one of the few places that could be counted on to provide a great atmosphere with great food during my formative years. The loss of that place kind of symbolized the loss of my childhood. But now they're starting to tear down everything else. They got rid of the Pacific Theater, where I probably watched most of my films from 1980 to 1995. They're thinking of letting the lease run out on the bowling alley right next to it so that they can put yet another shopping center in. Again, that bowling alley saw many birthday parties and late night bowlaramas.
But I think the last straw came when I heard about the recent fires this past weekend in Sierra Madre. Not only is it threatening one of my aunts' house, but it came dangerously close to St. Rita's. I don't know what I would've done had that place been damaged. I mean--it's not just a school to me. It's a place where everything about me was first formulated. I hold so many memories of classes and people and other anecdotes, that for all of it to be burned to a crisp might be too much for me.
Follow:
-It was in Fourth Grade there that my teacher told me I should go into writing because, as she put it, "I have an imagination that just won't quit."
-It was in Third Grade, during the middle of class, that Nicole taught the small group of us at the back of the class about the birds and the bees.
-It was in Seventh Grade where I joined up with the Boy Scouts and gained not only an appreciation of hiking and camping, but also a healthy appreciation of pushing myself to the limits.
-It was at St. Rita's Church that I met (and became enamored with) the lovely Sniffler.
I know all things come to an end. I know nothing endures but change, but there are some places that I can't imagine ever coming to a close. I picture them outliving me, outliving my children, outliving anyone who knows me. I couldn't save some the places of my youth, but there are same places that no one should ever lose. No one should be around to watch the home they grew up in be tore down. No one should be around to watch the first park you ever remember playing in be bulldozed over. And no one should ever see their first memorable school go up in flames.
St Rita's isn't just a place for me. It might as well be the stand-in for the years I was there. If I lose that place, it will be like the years I went to school and church there never happened.
It'll be like all of that was just a dream.
And I can't lose that dream, because that dream was one of the best dreams I ever had.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
Sierra Madre isn't exactly everyone's idea of California. It's a tiny, little villa on the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains. At most there's a little over twelve thousand people there. By most people's definition, that's not a small town. However, when you live right next to Pasadena, which has over 100,000 people and are about ten minutes out of Los Angeles proper, which has about 3.8 million people in it, you can consider Sierra Madre a small town. At least that's what it felt like to me growing up. I knew all the businesses in downtown Sierra Madre, which, by the way you could cross on foot in about five minutes one way and about five seconds the other way. I used to ride my bike with brothers and cousins up and down Sierra Madre Boulevard, which was the main thoroughfare through the city. I went to four different schools in the Sierra Madre area, including where I spent of my school days, St. Rita's, from second grade to eighth grade. It was my tiny hamlet away from the rest of the world.I don't know--lately, it seems like all my familiar haunts are starting to be replaced one by one. It began when they tore down the local Fuddrucker's, which I must have spent three years of my life total in. Whether it was riding down on bikes with my cousins and brother during the summer months or just walking down after classes at La Salle High--Fudd's was one of the few places that could be counted on to provide a great atmosphere with great food during my formative years. The loss of that place kind of symbolized the loss of my childhood. But now they're starting to tear down everything else. They got rid of the Pacific Theater, where I probably watched most of my films from 1980 to 1995. They're thinking of letting the lease run out on the bowling alley right next to it so that they can put yet another shopping center in. Again, that bowling alley saw many birthday parties and late night bowlaramas.
But I think the last straw came when I heard about the recent fires this past weekend in Sierra Madre. Not only is it threatening one of my aunts' house, but it came dangerously close to St. Rita's. I don't know what I would've done had that place been damaged. I mean--it's not just a school to me. It's a place where everything about me was first formulated. I hold so many memories of classes and people and other anecdotes, that for all of it to be burned to a crisp might be too much for me.
Follow:
-It was in Fourth Grade there that my teacher told me I should go into writing because, as she put it, "I have an imagination that just won't quit."
-It was in Third Grade, during the middle of class, that Nicole taught the small group of us at the back of the class about the birds and the bees.
-It was in Seventh Grade where I joined up with the Boy Scouts and gained not only an appreciation of hiking and camping, but also a healthy appreciation of pushing myself to the limits.
-It was at St. Rita's Church that I met (and became enamored with) the lovely Sniffler.
I know all things come to an end. I know nothing endures but change, but there are some places that I can't imagine ever coming to a close. I picture them outliving me, outliving my children, outliving anyone who knows me. I couldn't save some the places of my youth, but there are same places that no one should ever lose. No one should be around to watch the home they grew up in be tore down. No one should be around to watch the first park you ever remember playing in be bulldozed over. And no one should ever see their first memorable school go up in flames.
St Rita's isn't just a place for me. It might as well be the stand-in for the years I was there. If I lose that place, it will be like the years I went to school and church there never happened.
It'll be like all of that was just a dream.
And I can't lose that dream, because that dream was one of the best dreams I ever had.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
Labels: Leesha Harvey, Memories, progress, Sierra Madre, small towns
posted by mojo shivers @ 7:35 PM
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