I used to walk into town in those days, a three hour walk one-way if a I took my time, which I always did. There’s no hurry when you’re walking, although I’ve heard others say different. Doesn’t get the heart racing, they say, if you take your time. Heart racing? What’s walking and a racing heart have to do with one another? That’s what I’d tell ‘em. Walking’s just about one of the few things a person’s got that gives you a chance to slow down, let your mind rest a little. Let your heart rest. Hell, I know you wouldn’t think it to look at me, but my hearts been racing my whole life, and I needed those long walks into town, and it wasn’t just about getting groceries either. Man’s gotta eat, sure, but he needs to walk so he can slow down from time to time and forget about the rest of it. If forgetting is what you want to call it, ‘cause I hear tell that a person never forgets anything.
You know about that, don’t you? That business about never forgetting? What I hear is that all this living we do gets trapped up there in our brains and there ain’t no getting it out, no matter what, excepting maybe a car wreck or stroke, or something like that, but the rest of the time it’s just up there, waiting on us. Locked in there forever, they say, well, until they bury you anyway, then I don’t know what happens to it. Myself, I don’t know what to make of it because I swear to God I can’t recall most of what’s happened to me. You’d think a grown man would remember more, wouldn’t you? Matter of fact, I’m probably wasting your time right now, trying to remember back that far. Not sure I can do it. I’m thinking it has something to do with all the walking I’ve done. Maybe, I don’t know.
I didn’t always live out here, you know. No, I used to live right there in town, well, along the south edge anyway, near what’s called Chestnut St. now, although then it weren’t really called anything. More gravel patch then road. The street I was on, I mean, not Chestnut, cause that was a proper street used to run clear through town, if you can believe that. I couldn’t tell you why they changed it. Maybe when the chestnuts blew down in ‘52 they just figured they’d change things up. Made some folks mad, I can tell you that much. Changin’ history, they said, just making a street disappear like that. Well, not disappear, but end all sudden like that with no place to go.
Anyway, I had me a little place just down a piece from Dell’s. You know the place? I suppose not. Ain’t nothing there now. Didn’t last long after they changed Chestnut, I guess, although it weren’t that long ago they flattened it, so you might dig up some pictures somewhere back in town if you ask around. I ain’t got any. Never thought of taking any pictures, I guess. Just sort of thought I ‘d remember the important stuff, although I can tell you now that that ain’t exactly working out, is it? Well, they flattened Dell’s clear to the ground then dug the whole place up, claiming the ground was tainted on account of all the gas and oil and whatnot, which I’m sure it was. Hell, no one knew any better back then, that’s just the way it was. Weren’t no big deal to sit out along the curb and scrub down some dirty carburetor or broken down block with just a brush and a bucket of gasoline sitting there next to you. You finished, you just dumped the whole business there at the curb and hosed it down. Hell, people’d have a heart attack now if they saw something like that.