it only hurts when I read about it

The town where I lived my first 20 years had around 4200 residents. Almost 30 years later the population is 5300 or so. Not a big increase compared to the boom experienced in many other areas. I’ve written in this journal previously concerning my experiences growing up there and the feelings I still have for the place. Thanks to a dutiful mother, who for the past several years has sent a gift subscription to the local hometown weekly newspaper, I stay up-to-date with the events, names and places I still nostalgically cling to. Each issue is usually eight to ten pages covering the mundane happenings of everyday small town life for all communities in the surrounding county. The issue arriving yesterday contained two eye-opening, shake your head in dis-belief, let out a big sigh, front page lead stories:

“Mass Murder Suspect Charged” (four drug related murders)

“Teacher Arrested On Child Porn” (elementary school teacher for 18 years)

Welcome to the real world Green Cove Springs, Florida.


About Marcus

Who me? Introverted, neurotic, self-absorbed, increasingly cynical observer of human nature and part time social critic in hiding. Most of my life spent avoiding growing up. The naive idealistic passions of youth have evolved into the eclectic eccentricities of adulthood. Northeast Florida small-town native, related to people I can't relate to. Simultaneously my own best friend and worst enemy. Politically and spiritually unaffiliated, my personal ideologies put me all over the map or off it completely.
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5 Responses to it only hurts when I read about it

  1. mrsmartian says:

    Nah, that isn’t the real world.That’s merely reality for the few low grade wasters being reported on.
    I worry, that by saying this is reality we are saying it’s normal. It isn’t, only for the few.Most of us don’t harm anyone, take what isn’t ours, kill people or rape children.
    I know a place with some soft sand. So soft is it, that you can bury your head in it right up to your neck. I may just move there permanently.

    • marcsuttle says:

      Sometimes I think I’ve spent my life living in a fantasy world on the beach of an isolated island, letting the sand deposited by the tide slowly bury me a little more each day. Occasionally a bottle will wash up on shore containg information about the outside world and make me realize having sand in my clothes all the time isn’t the best way to live. There is an entire world out there that needs some repair work.

      • mrsmartian says:

        Sleeping sword.
        “There is an entire world out there that needs some repair work.”
        Of that, there is no doubt. Whether that world actually welcomes attempts to run interference is open to debate.I have spent years fighting battles against the inherently wrong. So long in fact that i am scarred and not a little jaded with the fight.I’m rather surprised that i can still recognise,that this is rather a bad place to be in.
        I have long been of the opinion, that rather than tackling problems by admitting that they are there in the first place. We have all become rather too fond of bleating about reasons and inventing excuses.
        There, you’ve made me think now. A rainy Sunday afternoon and here i am, head out of the sand, thinking.
        I suppose i should thank you.

  2. dog_inheaven says:

    Ummm, I think we could find that type of action in just about any small town in America. But I am a drug and alcohol counselor, so I became very cynical a long time age about human beings. My little town has this going on a lot, some of it gets reported, depending on who it is and some of it stays in the closet…

    • marcsuttle says:

      When I read those headlines I thought back and remembered a time when subject matter even less scandalous was swept under the rug and only whispered about in low tones. We trusted the “system” to remove the undesirable elements and maintain civility. But it was always someone else’s problem. Social awakening to where you really live(the larger community of “us” vs. “me”) is not easy.

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