i was kinda strange, too.
i was fat and read most every book in the library,
especially the science fiction and history.
asimov. sprague. niven. herbert.
oh, my, lucifer's hammer and dune(!)
and 1984 and brave new world
and world war II.
the farther away the story
could take me from where i lived,
the better.
guess i was starved for excitement,
since shootin' and swearin'
can't really compare to
spaceships soaring on high
or dictators brought down low.
it was not idyllic, but not bad.
then, dad told us we had to move.
to leave the one place we really knew.
to leave our friends -- our home.
i had to leave my
cocoon of insular smugness behind.
it was easy to be a big fish in a little pond,
but now i had to swim in a new pond
and that sucked.
for the longest time i wanted to just
do what catfish do when the pond dries up --
walk on my fins to a bigger (or more familiar) pond.
but i couldn't.
now, i'm glad i didn't crawl back.
i grew up a lot by moving,
got to see the world,
and got to get out of my cocoon,
even if it was a little bit early.
otherwise, i'd probably be back there
drinking, shooting stop signs and pheasants,
waiting for new science fiction to come in
to the Cozard Memorial Library,
and hoping a spaceship would land by my house.