I've been remembering a lot of memories from my Iowa days recently. Last night, as I was reading a Jonathan Carroll novel (after returning late from the Geek Dinner) his descriptions reminded me of a typical friday or saturday night in Ottumwa Iowa.
I would meet up with my small group of friends and after driving around, pretending that there might be things to do in our small town, we always ended up at Parkview Plaza, the all night hotel diner. We had a little money and would ponder over the cheap and sweet items on the menu. Inevitable we'd order coffee and their giant cinnamon rolls.
I've been feeling a pull to go back to see that small town. My grandparents still live there, but all other ties to that place (beyond my childhood memories) are gone. I had a love hate place with Ottumwa. I loved the nature and back roads and huge old brick buildings. The river, the trails, the railroad tracks. The sunset and whipperwhills and solo hikes deep into the woods where I'd visit the dilapated homestead with a cistern and caves carved in rock. The cemetary on a hillside. The cliffside I almost jumped into the sunset.
It's all changed I know. Jonathan Caroll writes about that. Visiting towns from your youth as adult eyes. When I lived in that town, I created the same surreal adventures he writes about. I could fill books with those magical stories. So reading his, remind me of mine.
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