I’m not one hundred percent unless the path below my feet delivers messages that were meant to reach up grab my toes and trip a constantly wandering imagination.
Being open to such cartoon characterizations is like working the media field dressed up in movie critic clothes; it can never be your goal only to watch what you assume is good, great or better than...
While pacing through Stanley County the writer in me took note of the incredibly large number of street names printed on thin green signs stuck feet first into the rolling hills of some of this nations most beautiful countryside; I was in the middle of nowhere yet the picture painted told the tale of my two feet being somewhere.
Most streets led to a dead end while others carried gravel from the larger than life mailbox visited once maybe twice a week to the front door of the Southern style that’s decorated the lay of this land well before our chapters were set free in the passing breeze called modern times.
There were so many streets! It reminded me of a day in May 1994 when I introduced my wife to the cattle fields I grew up on in Ranchester, Wyoming; it was calving season and she felt this burning desire to free the numbered orange tags from their perky little ears and personally name all 1,250 new head. After about thirty or so big, bright and sexy calf eyes later…her desire had swiftly turned to, “Show me the bull that made all this happen.”
The tiniest things continue to fascinate what I’ve always written off as being the typical little boy adventure; from once invisible streams that called out to me to build a twig dam to frogs, lizards and spiders greeting me at the door wondering how much longer it’ll be before radio turns me loose so I can spend more time playing in the trees.
For 911 to work in Stanley County, North Carolina…street names are required on dirt covered back roads, long a** drive ways that take you to a barn, chicken coup or a swimming pool designed to look like a backyard pond. The goal is to create a connection between all the little places humans love to hide with the emergency vehicles that may one day be required.
We’ve changed the lay of this land so much in the past ten years that even the locals are getting lost.
While sitting with a Medicine Man in 1998, he shared with me the way his nation once traveled showcasing rocks, split tree trunks, creeks with four boulders and hill tops much balder than an eagle as being their mile markers. A simple plant such as a Yucca, Fern, Wild Rose or Queens Lace would speak to those searching; allowing them to find safe passage during times when highways were trails over mountain passes…get it…I took the high way to the lake so that we could fish.
As much as we love our GPS systems I’ve yet to meet the soul that puts 100% of their trust in its way of leading us toward a proper destination. I laugh heartedly when I hear stories about innocent vacationers getting lost in places the Bermuda Triangle fears. I being one of them this past Saturday while searching for a road called Snickers.
How could I forget a name like that? There’s no better combination of peanuts and chocolate! I wholeheartedly believed I was ahead of the game until the highway no longer resembled what the GPS was singing. Thank God I sport a funky watch that constantly measures the rhythms of my heart…while the numbers wanted rise completely ripping a part an incredible day…it served as a reminder for me to remember; just breathe…only to remember all things in Stanley County come with names…especially driveways.
Now I’m jealous! Why does Stanley County get to name everything but we city slickers are stuck with raunchy number? I want a name for my driveway! I want a larger than life sign with glow in the dark lettering that exposes to the world that this itty bitty slab of concrete blessed with extremely high city county and state taxes is where I live.
Which brings me to the most difficult question of the week; if given permission to be just like Stanley County…what would name your driveway?
Oooops…hold on there are rules to the Stanley County game. According to Larry and Kim from Bella Gardens you’re given three empty spaces to suggest a name…kinda like having a personalized tag for your car. He was told the county always takes the first name on the list only to learn they went with the third.
So! If the Mecklenburg County and the City of Charlotte were to become Steven Tyler and Jennifer Lopez cool and up to date like Stanley County and let’s say they charged 30 bucks a year then give it to the teachers…would you change the name of your driveway?
What three names would you send in?
My Mom would spout, "Such nonsense will give families reason to pick another fight."
As much as I’d love for my itty bitty teeny weenie little sliver of the Carolinas to be named The Poet’s Forest…my wife would drop kick and tie me down so I didn’t get to the mailbox with the list. She’d want something named after her grandchildren or He Never Mows the Lawn or Creative Nightmare.
That’s ok…another great reason to build onto the driveway…a quick turn before it hits the garage! Now I get two street names! Forget watering the lawn! Get out there and make your driveway look hotter than the neighbors.
Then Wilson from Fox 18 would have to do a television ratings story based on the hottest names people are using for their driveway: Monkey Grass, My Rose Garden Paradise, Mike’s Yard, Stay Out and Mine!
Please give me a road sign for my driveway! But only if 100% of the profit goes to teachers.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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