Stop the Presses column by Chris Graham
“We’re moving to the city,” I said to a long-time friend, who could hardly suppress a laugh.
“Um, you’re moving to Waynesboro,” Dobie Madison, a sportswriter buddy of mine from way back, retorted.
“We’re not talking city here. We’re talking … less rural than the middle of nowhere.”
Everything is relative, I guess.
Because for me, moving to a jurisdiction with 20,000 residents packed into six or seven square miles is moving to the city.
You know, given that I’ve lived 90 percent of my life 15 miles from the nearest stoplight.
I mean, growing up, my post office box number was 12.
“What was phone number – four?” I remember a college chum asking me once.
(For the record, it was four-four. I’m kidding. OK, I’m not.)
We didn’t get cable out my way until 1985 – and when it came, it brought with it all of 12 channels.
Which we were happy to have until 1993, when we got another 20.
So moving from a house that sits across the road from two farms – I will absolutely no question miss being awakened every morning by the donkeys braying – into a downtown district with museums and restaurants and a theater all within walking distance will make me …
“A city slicker,” Dobie Madison deadpanned, as if he knew where I was trying to go with this.
“Well …”
Yeah, I guess I will be a city slicker.
If nothing else, I won’t have to wait two hours the next time I need law enforcement to come out to my house – like I did the last time that was the case out in the county.
I live two blocks away from the PD headquarters – and I’m up the street from City Hall.
Heck, I could run for mayor next year – and I’m half-inclined to give it a shot.
But I digress.
The point is, this is a big step for little ol’ me.
No more country boy.
Nope – I’m a city boy now.
Chris Graham is the author of Stop the Presses: A Collection of Columns. More information on the book is available at www.authorchrisgraham.com.
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