A picture of my hometown's main drag.
Van Horn,Texas is 697 miles away from my home here in Denver, Colorado but only a nano-second from hundreds of memories.
In Van Horn, population 2800 in the 70's, my dad had a belt. When it come out, the four of us would promise each other our first born in order to show Pop how much we really loved each other. To no avail.
We were not abused.
We were disciplined.
We didn't have cell phones, but we coud walk all around town in the dark with no fear. But if we got home after Mama said be home, well, we had plenty to be sceered of.
I grew up on fried chicken, fried okra, fried squash, fried eggs, fried potatoes...and hamburger gravy. Yep, I've dealt with weight issues all of my life. Did kale exist in the 70's?
Memories are colored with rosy shades of perspective and gray tones of fact. But as I look back on those years between the ages of 4 and 18 - the formative years they call them - my memories always paint a picture of gratitude.
Van Horn was a wonderful place to grow up.
I've written a novel set in Texas called Cecilia Jackson's Last Chance. In preparation for the book launch on November 15th, I'm going to tell some tales of my time in Texas. I invite you to read and maybe visit your own childhood. No matter where we're raised, many of us share the same characters and scenes.
Tell me, were you raised in a small town or a city? Which would be better?