Every memory of lookin out the back door
I had the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor
It’s hard to say it
Time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye

I grew up in a small town.  Not even a town really.  Technically it was a village.  The Village Of Delburne.

I spent my whole life there, from the age of six months to just shy of eighteen, after I graduated from high school.  I think some people assume I moved out right away to get away from my parents.  But that wasn't it at all.

I needed to get away from that horrible little town's evil clutches.  You might think I'm kidding, but I'm not.  I don't think it was a conscious decision on my part at the time, but looking back I'm pretty sure my sub-conscious was screaming at me to leave before it was too late.  So I did.

People talk about "small town living" and how great it must be.  I hate to generalize, so if you live in a fantastic little place with perfect little picket fences around perfect little houses with perfect little families inside them then I'm thrilled for you...  but, and here goes the generalizing, small town living is not all it's cracked up to be. 

Smalltown school of five hundred kids total from kindergarten to grade twelve.  Smalltown jobs (one high school summer I was a youth group co-ordinator, the next summer I was a museum tour guide).  Smalltown cafe complete with "regulars" and waitresses who always knew you.

Sounds idyllic, huh?

Not so much. 

Appearances can be sooooo deceiving.

I ran into a very old friend today that I hadn't seen in years.  We played together twice a week from the time we were pre-schoolers.  Her son, unbeknownst to me until this morning, is on the same hockey team as my son.  So we got laughing and doing a bit of reminscing.  I told her how a few weeks ago when the team had a game out in Delburne and my husband asked if I wanted to go my first thought was "Why the hell would I want to go back there?"  She laughed and agreed.

The last time I was in Delburne was five years ago when we were packing up my parents old place because they too had decided it was time to move.  Mom and I went into town to get some stuff for lunch.  That was the last time I set foot in that place.  And I only live about twenty minutes away.

So Crystal makes a slightly offhand comment about "swingers", and after a curious, and incredulous, look from me, she explains to me that she was there awhile back visiting family, and was invited to a party by someone our age.  She said that sure, maybe she would drop by later with her son so she could see everyone.  She got a strange look and a reply of "Uhhh, you wouldn't want to bring him.  We'll be...  doing...  stuff.  You know.  With...  each other."

Whaaaaaaat?  Then she went on to tell me that a guy we both used to know, who is married to someone else we used to know, and is thirty five, got her eighteen year old cousin pregnant last year during one of these...  uh...  parties, and she is due soon. 

And that's just the beginning of all the soap opera stories.  I'm sure we could sit together for hours and exchange utterances of "Really?"  "What?"  "Who?"  "Are you serious?"  "She whaaaaaat?"  "EWWWWWWWW!"

I have known for a long time about the drugs that run rampant in that town, and I knew lots of people were wackos, but jesus christ on a skateboard...  SWINGERS???  I USED TO BE FRIENDS WITH THESE PEOPLE!

Really.  People I used to talk to.  Hang out with.  Drive around with.  Share a drink with.  This is not a mental image I want to have.

Excuse me while I go scrub my brain with bleach.

Every memory of walkin out the front door
I found the photo of the friend that I was lookin for
It's hard to say it
It’s time to say it
Goodbye, goodbye

Look at this photograph
Every time I do, it makes me laugh
Every time I do, it makes me.