Disclaimer: One thing to keep buried in the back of your mind while reading this are – I’m a freshman returning home for the first time for more than 3 days. I didn’t know what to write about this time. It could of been the trip to New Orleans the week before finals or even a guide on how to learn entire classes in 2 days, but this seemed the most appropriate. Enjoy.
People were crying and fighting and throwing up in all parts of the
house. Welcome home, I thought. Well… mabey not. However, subconscious or not, it was expected. I knew this is how it would be. It was during that last ride out of town to begin the new life in college that I knew things would never change.
My hometown is like a crossbred Faulkner and Dawson’s Creek gone completely wrong. I won’t lie. Don’t get me wrong though, that is in no way an objective outlook on the place I call home, but my views are shared by many, either in secret or out in the open. The only people who will disagree are probably the elderly, but that’s another story.
Lake Jackson’s nickname is the city of enchantment, but most refer to it was the city of entrapment.
The city’s existence is owed to Dow Chemical, where it operates it’s second biggest plant in North America shortly south of the city. I figure it’s just a matter of time until they figure out the most cost effective way of outsourcing it all over the Pacific. Then other companies are going to come in and buy out different parts of the operations but they will slowly leave too. What is a house without it’s foundation?
Over the break I’ve been working at a small steakhouse/bar in town known as Cactus Grill.“Martin! Where’s my food??!! Everyone in the restaraunt business had their days of fame when the movie Waiting came out. Despite contrary beleif, that movie describes every single restaraunt… anywhere. I learned alot of things working here. Suprisingly, the people who come in for the dollar margharitas are the nicest people. Another thing that suprised me, the meanest and most disrespectful people we would ever have come in was usually the Sunday after church crowd. I guess that’s small towns. Oh and on a side note, we only get paid 2.13 an hour. So it’s customary to tip 15% (10% is dead, we got kids to feed). That whole leave one dollar for a fifty dollar ticket… don’t do it.
But back to the town. It’s funny how cliche it is. I notice things. We had our own version of the white flight to the new suburban sprawls of the 50s from the cities. All the top earners decided to move across a highway and slowly in unison, more people keep fleeing from those of lower earning brackets. It’s been hapening slowly now for around 10 years. The houses keep getting more and more grandiose. When the economy crashes to hell, I wonder if they’ll still be standing on good ground?
The churches get bigger and I ask, “Hey, what about the starving children all over the world, the civil wars the distroy the lives of millions, and all the tired and poor that live under your doorstep?” but I am greeted with no reply.
And the final nail in my youth was to discover that the local shows that I played at and where my friends play, practically the only place to go on a friday or saturday night… were finally shut down by the city who just doesn’t understand.
So what is there to this place that doesn’t make it have higher suicide rates than Las Vegas? You find certian people who become your family. To my friends, I love you all. Thanks for everything.
And finally, there are the faint glimmers of hope that make you stop and ask, mabey this place isn’t so bad after all? Mabey I’m just exaggerating it all.
On a side note.
My car was finally fixed.