Historical Significance
I’ve always been kind of fascinated about places that were here long before I was.
I read a story about the childhood home of Johnny Cash in Dyess, Arkansas. The small house was deemed as a historical residence, and the article didn’t say much about what that means, but it’s the kind of place I’d walk through. Cash wrote a couple of songs about his time in that area, and I’d sort of imagine where he sat and what he was thinking as he created.
It’s just a place where a guy sat, strumming a 6-string and writing.
I know where I wrote each of my books. I just have to think of the book and I’m back in that room.
Rooms in California, Maryland, Connecticut, North Collins, Lackawanna and here.
They won’t be preserved, but they are in my mind.
“We raised our family here. We’re happy that you will too,” the guy who sold us this home said at the closing.
I think of that time and again.
And it’s kind of weird to go back to places where you once hung out. I walked the streets in Erie one day a couple of years back and my mouth hung open for a little while.
I could feel things that I’d felt for friends, and girls, long since forgotten.
All those feelings still down there somewhere.
All those thoughts trapped in my brain.
And then there’s the nagging thought:
Johnny Cash is gone.
That house will eventually fall apart.
All that is built, eventually crumbles.
Coincidentally, I was parked beside a cemetery as I waited for traffic to move.
I saw a headstone and could see the dates.
“1903 - 1948”
Poor guy only made it 45 years.
He was loved.
Big headstone.
Who is left who thinks of him?
Did he leave a lot behind?
He’s been gone 70 years.
That stone is his historical significance...
...hope he had more.
And one final thought:
Sometimes I think about what might happen down the line.
2054, for example.
Not that far away.
I’d have to be 90 to be here.
Will I know what happens if I crumble before that?
Who will win that World Series?
Will my children be happy?
Will their children?
Will anyone still read my words?
See what happens when I see Johnny Cash’s small home?
I read a story about the childhood home of Johnny Cash in Dyess, Arkansas. The small house was deemed as a historical residence, and the article didn’t say much about what that means, but it’s the kind of place I’d walk through. Cash wrote a couple of songs about his time in that area, and I’d sort of imagine where he sat and what he was thinking as he created.
It’s just a place where a guy sat, strumming a 6-string and writing.
I know where I wrote each of my books. I just have to think of the book and I’m back in that room.
Rooms in California, Maryland, Connecticut, North Collins, Lackawanna and here.
They won’t be preserved, but they are in my mind.
“We raised our family here. We’re happy that you will too,” the guy who sold us this home said at the closing.
I think of that time and again.
And it’s kind of weird to go back to places where you once hung out. I walked the streets in Erie one day a couple of years back and my mouth hung open for a little while.
I could feel things that I’d felt for friends, and girls, long since forgotten.
All those feelings still down there somewhere.
All those thoughts trapped in my brain.
And then there’s the nagging thought:
Johnny Cash is gone.
That house will eventually fall apart.
All that is built, eventually crumbles.
Coincidentally, I was parked beside a cemetery as I waited for traffic to move.
I saw a headstone and could see the dates.
“1903 - 1948”
Poor guy only made it 45 years.
He was loved.
Big headstone.
Who is left who thinks of him?
Did he leave a lot behind?
He’s been gone 70 years.
That stone is his historical significance...
...hope he had more.
And one final thought:
Sometimes I think about what might happen down the line.
2054, for example.
Not that far away.
I’d have to be 90 to be here.
Will I know what happens if I crumble before that?
Who will win that World Series?
Will my children be happy?
Will their children?
Will anyone still read my words?
See what happens when I see Johnny Cash’s small home?
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