BIRTHPLACE OF THE REPUBLICAN PARTY
5/17/01 9:00am EST
As I glance up from the exciting book I just started, I see we are pulling off the highway. Exit 139. Why does that seem so familiar? Oh, we are stopping in Jackson "Birthplace of The Republican Party". I can't figure out if this sign was put up for bragging rights or warning purposes. Possibly both. I thought I would never have to come back here.
Jackson is where I came to file my unemployment. Oddly enough I've never spent a dry day in Jackson. I hope bus rides, unemployment claims and gray skies are not foreshadowing in this story of my life. But of course, they are. Because God is a literary man and enjoys a good lesson at his children's expense.
What kind of tattoo parlor opens at 9AM? Oh, the kind that is also a motel. Only in Jackson, Michigan. The bus driver makes an announcement over the muffled and scratchy P.A. "This is Jackson. This is Jackson." And I think, 'Hell it must be'. That which doesn't kill me...that which doesn't kill me...that which doesn't kill me...
No comments:
Post a Comment