Nebraska retrospective part 1 (Broken Bow)

Here begins my Nebraska retrospective – four parts in all, not including intro and conclusion.

I have focused a lot on my childhood in this blog. It's an accepted belief that our childhoods greatly influence who we become as adults. There is some debate, of course, but the nurture part of nature/nurture is very important. It is safe to say I didn't have a very nurturing upbringing. I have focused on my childhood primarily because I moved back to where I was born about five years ago, and with that move, the memories came crashing in on me. This is where my original memories are, at least until the age of 10 years old, and, having family here, we often came back to visit, too. 

The next nine years of my life, though, were spent in Nebraska. We moved to a town called Broken Bow over Christmas break in 1987. That is where this retrospective begins. 

Initially, I was heartbroken after this move. Gradually, I saw that it was, indeed, a good move for my family. It was a better place to live in so many ways. And, of course, I got to meet the girl of my dreams here – Cindy – at the tender age of 10 years old, both of us in the fourth grade. 

Girls. I knew there would be girls in my new town. The first thing my new principal said was, "All the girls have been asking about the new kid. They're glad it's a boy." I dreaded interactions with girls because, in the past, it had often been no fun. They were either boy crazy or mean little brats, and I didn't want anything to do with either. I remained in this stunted place in my female relationships for many years, sadly. Because of my lack of experience, low self-esteem, and weird-ass childhood, I steered clear of girls. 

I remember for Valentine's Day in the fourth grade, I gave all the girls the same valentine. I didn't want any of them to think I had the hots for them (probably because I had a crazy, obsessed woman who made my family move to Nebraska in the back of my mind). So, of course, they all compared and saw they were the same. My valentines all said something like, "Let's be friends." One of them asked, "But who do you like?" I didn't like any of them. I was in the fourth grade! I just move to town! I didn't even know how to recite the Pledge of Allegiance! I was behind in all of my subjects except art. I used to excuse myself to go down the hall to the bathroom (quickly – and why were they at the far end of the building!) and throw up because I realized I was failing and was so anxious about every assignment. I remember having an emergency parent-teacher meeting, and I had to tell my teacher which things I was struggling in. Like she didn't know. One of those books was my spelling book. I was a terrible speller. Anyway, those girls probably decided I was gay or something. Aww, he just wants to be friends. 
 

I spent a lot of time in this building, as this was the newspaper my dad managed and where I worked. Most of my time was spent in the printing department and not with the production of the newspaper.

I struggled with my schoolwork after moving to Broken Bow. It was hard because it was in the middle of the school year. It was also hard because I was way behind, as South Dakota schools are not very good, a fact my brother can now attest to after having moved his children here for the last school year, and now back home to Illinois. It took me about a year to catch up to the other kids. By the time the fifth grade was over, I was back in a comfortable spot. 

The people are different in Nebraska. Maybe it was just because my senses were heightened, being exposed to everything brand new, but it seemed the people were friendlier. Not all of them, of course, but most of them were nicer than in South Dakota. 

One of the houses my family lived in. I was going to take a picture of the other house, but I could barely see it through all the overgrown foliage.

I remember sitting in class and hearing the trains go through town. I would look around at the other kids and no one seemed to notice that strange rumble disrupting my thoughts. In time, I became immune to it, too. Gradually, I became habituated to life in cow country, Nebraska. I learned to enjoy the landscape, even, which I initially thought was mind-numbingly boring. I went to the Sandhills as much as possible, as it seemed like a truly unique place (and, indeed, it is!). I went fishing. I went hunting. I drove my little car all over the place, radio blaring, just to get out of the house. Sometimes I went down to my workplace at night just to get away from my crazy parents. Looking back, it's easy to see why I eventually moved halfway across the country. It wasn't just me chasing a girl; I was also trying to get the hell away from my parents. My home life was toxic. I know I've said this before, and I will probably say it again, but it's very clear why I chose to be alone rather than with my family. It was a protective mechanism that still works for me today, though it increasingly feels selfish.

This looks like an unimportant place, but this is Reservoir Hill.

This was the town where I met my girl at Reservoir Hill, where we "hung out" where I worked many times, where I crashed and burned just trying to figure out how to be with a girl. I didn't recall the times we hung out, nor did I remember our meeting at Reservoir Hill. As it turns out, I don't remember a whole lot, but she reminded me of these things. She even remembered what we had for dinner the one time we had a date, the one time she met my parents and my mom said very emphatically how much she liked this girl. Maybe my parents were just glad I wasn't gay. 

No, she was just that kind of girl; she was infinitely marry-able. She was any decent man's perfect girl, and I'm sure she was a perfect wife to the man she eventually married, a man she was seeing at the time we hung out and had our one date. I guess she got tired of me waiting to ask her if we were dating or whatever she thought I should do. She broke things off with me shortly after our one date. Three days after she was officially with her man, she got a letter from me saying I wanted to put a ring on her finger. Three days. That's all that separated me from being with the girl of my dreams. But, as it turns out, it was a lot more than just three days. She's always been unattainable. Always will be. 

Anyway, my visit to Broken Bow was short. I arrived in the afternoon and was soon wondering why I came at all. I had an uneasy feeling as soon as I got to town. It seemed strange to be there, like I was following after something that was already gone. Chasing ghosts, I said. I ran at the high school track because I spent a lot of time there training for sports and because I think better when I'm active. It felt good to feel sunshine and the heat of the day. I recalled all the days I spent working out. I did one year of football and decided even though I liked football more, cross country kept me in better shape for basketball, which was the sport I loved most. I also ran track and did better in track than any other sport, even lettering when I was 16 years old. During the first few summers, I was also on the swim team (The Cosmos, short for The Cosmopolitans), but my interest waned once I started running out of rides from my family and had to rely on moms with minivans already full of really rowdy girls. It was fun to be involved in so many things.

There were too many memories or things were just too muddled to make sense of here. I left feeling like I had wasted my time. One thing I noticed about Broken Bow was it hasn't stopped growing. There is life in this small town. There are new businesses. It's chewing up real estate at its edges. But there is something about that place that makes me want to simply leave. Whatever I wanted to find there was long gone, apparently. I think I know what that is. I don't know how I turned this whole Nebraska retrospective into me talking about a girl, but that's definitely where my thoughts led me.

I apologize in advance if this series of posts comes off as half-baked, ugly, or messy. That's pretty much how I felt. I felt raw and overwhelmed at times. But there is something in this series that was completely unexpected and beautiful. I consider this trip a personal earthquake, and aftershocks are coming. Future posts will contain a lot of what I'm having a hard time saying right now.

The things that came to the surface were mostly unhappy stuff, unfortunately. I mean, it's the same family stuff I'm still dealing with now. It's watching me grow up and trying to be a man without any clue about how one becomes a man. It's seeing me falter with relationships with both men and women and the memories of how I completely dropped the ball with the most precious woman I've ever known. Over and over again. 

So, yeah, whatever I was looking for wasn't in this town. I'm pretty sure I know what the lesson is from all of this, and I think I have already learned it. My whole approach to life has changed over the last few years. I am extremely prayerful about even smallish things. I don't want to run out from under God's care or protection. If God tells me no, I know there is danger in that direction and to stay clear. This has been a hard lesson to learn. But God never gave up on me.

When I was 17 years old, I got into a car accident. It was an icy road I slid off and totaled my car. I and my passenger, my brother Jon, were surprisingly unhurt. But that accident made me think about my short life which almost ended. I decided to take matters into my own hands. Shortly before this happened, a sort of on-again, off-again girlfriend broke things off with me. And she wasn't very kind about it. Apparently, those two events made me question my life and the direction I was heading. Clearly, God was screwing things up. 

I subscribed to a couple of snowboarding magazines, and they featured advertisements for all kinds of exotic music like punk rock and ska, which at that time was getting mixed in with the grunge and alternative music on the radio, as well. One of those bands I became interested in was Bad Religion. It's safe to say my embracing this band and this largely godless genre was because I was disaffected with Christianity. Did I think a bunch of hopeless souls could show me the way?

Years later, my mom told me something happened after my accident; it was like a darkness came over me. I have pinpointed this time in my life as the moment things changed. This is where I made a wrong turn and began a series of awful mistakes. I became more isolated and started researching on the internet alternative ways of living as well as spending more time on internet relay chat (IRC). I remember talking to a very intelligent 12-year-old girl who raised emus. How fascinating. I had never even heard of such a thing. What else could I find on the internet? Did it offer any insight into my present predicament, my failing faith in God? Was there meaning to life outside this small Nebraska town I was stuck in? What sort of life could I live once I left here? Oh, there were so many questions.

I threw my mattress on the floor and refused to sleep in my bed until I found the answers I was looking for. I remember writing letters to girls I met on IRC, even one from Norway, which I think I still have (but why, Joshua?). In short, I was angry with God. More than 20 years after this all went down, I look back and shake my head. What a fool I was. I ran away from the very One protecting and guiding me. During a very crucial episode of my life, I ran away from my God, the only One who offers real hope. What a shame. What a waste of 20-plus years. But I woke up, and thankfully it was not too late. God is back in charge of my life and will be the rest of my life. 

This set the stage for when I left home and entered college life, which was a rather unstructured juggernaut for which I was not prepared. Without the undergirding structure and protection of the faith I now shunned, I was setting myself up for failure. And boy did I fail.