We Are the Outsiders
The Fourth of July has always been my favorite holiday in this town, it was my dad’s favorite too, I probably miss him most of all on this day. The traditions of this once small town as well as the traditions of my family that carried on when I had kids made it extra special. The food, family, friends, fireworks, and laughter were all amazing. It’s changed now though, the patriarchs of the families have passed on and the celebrations have moved. The once small parade now includes neighboring towns and lasts too dadgumn long. My husband used to set up a tent early in the morning to stake out our favorite parade route spot but now people set up 24 hours in advance and complain about each other on Facebook. The park that used to be so much fun now looks more like an arts and crafts show that holds nothing anyone truly needs or wants.
Craig and I decided to spend the day alone this year, just us and the dogs. We have a lot going on this month, so it was a great day to be together and breathe. While we were mostly avoiding people, we did decide to venture into town and see what was happening. Y’all, we have lived in this town our whole lives and as we walked through the park in the middle of town we did not see one person we knew. How is that possible? How can you walk through the middle of the town you’ve lived in for half a century (ok that was brutal to type) and not see one person that even looks familiar? As we walked hand in hand back to our parked car down the road we were silent, lost in our thoughts until I looked up at him and said, “Do you realize that we are now the outsiders of our town?” He paused for a moment and then just said, “Yup.”
As we drove home we passed the now quiet house that holds every single Fourth of July memory I have. No cars were overflowing in the driveway, and no music or laughter came from the backyard. It’s all been moved to their children’s home which is how it should be, but the nostalgia of those days when I was doing cannonballs in the pool as a teenager and later with my babies in floaties was slightly overwhelming. That afternoon I received a text from one of my kids, saying they missed the Fourth the way it used to be, it was then that I felt the tears fill my eyes.
While some things in this town look the same, almost everything else looks vastly different. The writers of Yellowstone had John Dutton say, “I am the opposite of progress, I am what progress hits itself against,” in a speech about the supposedly positive improvements being made in his state. The definition of progress is, “forward or onward movement toward a destination.” Progress is supposed to be a good thing, but when progress takes away the small town feel we were known for and replaces it with empty office buildings on main street you have to wonder, is this town's progress positive? While I loved that quote when I heard it and wrote it down to remember, I think I understand a bit more now. This year, on my favorite holiday, I realized that this town, the only zip code I’ve ever known, is progressing while I’m standing still. I have become an outsider in my own town.
