The City Of Go
I’m at my parents this weekend, bonding with the family and relaxing after a very stressful week at work. I always enjoy visting Galva because it’s teeny-tiny (pop. 2,000) and their are so many colorful characters here that we could have twenty different realty shows based on all the drama and scandel. LOVE IT!
Why, just last week alone there was a meth lab bust (AWESOME!) and one of my mother’s tenants tried to kill themselves (luckily, he just popped some pills and all was okay). And of coarse, the second any of these things occur, EVERYONE in town knows about them.
The weirdest thing to happen so far occured last night as my parents, my brother’s family, and myself were all sitting on the front porch. We could hear horns honking in the distance and I saw a red convertable go by with a person sitting on top in the backseat, but I couldn’t tell who it was. A few minutes later, we see them turn down my parents street, still honking, with a little parade of cars behind them all honking. Then, as the convertable drove by, we could see an older lady sitting on top and the driver shouted, “This is the 1947 Football Queen!” The lady waved and we all waved back.
These are the “WTF?” moments that make coming home worthwhile 
Here in Brooklyn, you don’t want to know what’s going on during a drive-by.
Holy shit! I finally composed myself after laughing (and tyring to do so quitely since everybody else in my house is asleep) for like 5 minutes. I just pictures the wrinkly old prune drunk off her ass from too much Asti boxed wine. This must have been one of the rare lucid moments that her Alzheimer medication affords her and best idea was, “Let’s recreate the 1947 parade.” We need more details. Who was driving? Where they her age? Or did she wanted down to a bar and a few high schoolers pick her up? I know high schoolers can’t get into bars, but you said this is a small town and I’m picturing an even crappier real life version of Varsity Blues.
Aw, that’s cute! I tried to go back to Pittsburgh once (from Florida) and Maya was right; ‘You can’t ever go home again.’ Thank God. Now I live in Spain so there is no temptation! I wish I came from a cute little home town like yours though! I would definitly go back. I’m picturing white picket fences, unlocked doors, and cook-outs!
Dave- Yeah, we don’t have any “gang related activity” here, unless you count farmers!
Salty- This was still fairly early in the evening so I really don’t think anyone was drunk. Everyone one in the cars was her age and I think they are kind of an eccentric family so I’m not too shocked that they did something like that.
Scott- Yes, it’s very Norman Rockwell. But too small for me to live in, but a nice place to visit.
Who was it Brooke? She had to be at least 79 years old! Talk about glory days…
Kelly- I think it was a Cromien!