There's No Place Like Home

Nothing could make a better introduction to this post than lyrics from Little Big Town, "Boondocks," which is one of the ONLY country songs that you'll find on my iPod, and sometimes it makes me cry (but what doesn't make me cry? so that doesn't tell you a whole lot).

I feel no shame, I'm proud of where I came from, I was born and raised in the boondocks.
One thing I know, no matter where I go, I keep my heart and soul in the boondocks.

For some of you, the picture I'm about to paint is quite familiar, and for others - well - you may know nothing like this. Welcome to this slice of my life.

After contemplating all of the possible topics to blog about after a weekend in Ohio, I decided that the scene at my local bar on Friday night was the best choice to give you all a little of the local flavor. Here we go...

I walk into Patrick's, the bar in McCartyville (population estimated at about 125 people, one blinking stoplight at intersection, Catholic church, bar, drive-thru: that about sums up McCartyville; oh, and did I mention that Patrick's is .9 miles from my mom and dad's house?), where you KNOW you'll always know someone (better yet - you know you'll always be RELATED to someone in there). It's better than Cheers. Door opens: to my immediate right is my godfather, Uncle Crash, who buys the first round for my sister and me. I look across the bar, and there's my dad with the parents of one of my high school classmates (who happen to live across the road from my grandma and grandpa, too). As I walk over to sit next to Dad, I stop to say hi to the husbands of my two best girlfriends from high school who are sitting at the corner of the bar - the wives are at home. All the other people filling my peripheral view are familiar faces; we probably went to the same church, I went to school with their kids, I babysat their kids, they know my dad, or something of the sort.

I'm home.

Dad's decked out in Anna Rocket gear, but he didn't make it to the game. He says his buddy, Tater, didn't show up and he didn't want to go alone. I knew he'd rather shoot the breeze at Patrick's with me than go to a cold, rainy football game that we were probably going to lose. The Heitmans, sitting next to him, confirmed my suspicions. In no time, my older brother arrives with his girlfriend, my cousin Lisa walks in (she lives across the street), cousin Jason shows up later, Pickles - who is pretty much an honorary uncle - takes his usual seat on the opposite side of the bar, husbands and boyfriends of cousins round out the cavalcade of familiar faces. The bartender graduated high school with my sister. The other bartender (and bar owner) is the little brother of my senior prom date. All of us live within, probably, five miles of each other. And my homecoming is in full effect. Oh McCartyville...

The night winds down. After much storytelling between two of the best storytellers in the world (TJ and Lisa) and myself, the jukebox starts playing Johnny Cash. My sister and I perform our meticulously choreographed dance to "Ring of Fire," and the crowd goes wild (not really, but let's just pretend). If Hank Williams had started playing, it would have been a perfect night. Nonetheless, I realized that THIS is something that I can only find here. There can be no replication or imitation of home away from home; this only exists here.

Note to readers: the names in this post have NOT been altered to protect identities. Names like Crash, Pickles, and Tater are the names EVERYONE calls these people (except Grandma Buehler, who calls my uncles Crash, Burrhead, and Buck by their real names - Ray, Greg, and Dick). It's also important to note that Pickles is Tex's brother, and Pickles is the mastermind behind the selection of the St. Patrick's Day Queen in McCartyville, and Tex is usually on special security for that particular event. More to come on McCartyville St. Patrick's Day festivities this spring (I'll give you a teaser: it involves a hay wagon used as public transportation through the 125-person town to jump from house party to house party with ease).

Peace, love, and home sweet home--

Emily