I’ve been thinking about where I live lately and have written a bit about the place I am so reluctant to love.
So here goes:
My town is a railroad town. Established in 1889, at the height of the westward expansion, it is divided in half by one straight track.
Nowadays the citizens don’t really pay attention to this once booming industry. We now easily cross the tracks and nobody travels into tbe city by train. But at one point around 75% of all jobs were connected to the railroad. We were the gateway to the west and a stopping place for optimistic gold diggers. And while we may be oblivious, a dominant peice of our town’s history still influences our day to day life.
For example, high school students on the south side of town are sometimes delayed in arriving at school because of a hundred car train powering in from Utah or California. There are countless of banks and credit unions were started by the railroad and most of the senior citizens are living off their retirement from the road. Countless neighborhoods set up by this founding industry have archetecture from its glory days. Simple cream houses in row upon row, exsactly the same. The buildings on Main Street are centered around the depot and its once incoming passangers. The old Hotel Yellowstone sign still stands proud atop one if the oldest buildings.
And midday, if you listen closely, you can hear the noon train powering through town and switching tracks.
So although I’ve never been a huge fan of my town, its my town.
“I was from a small town where nobody really expected you to leave…that doesn’t happen.” -Taylor Swift