I'm an enterprising soul, and when money runs short, I tend to be one to go out and work. The problem with this claim of late is that I haven't had a lof of motivation to do so, one because I still have a good bit in savings (Read: I'm not broke... yet), and two this campus sucks the life right out of you in the summer. So I made a proposition with my parents for a bit of cash, fixing up my childhood home in Greenfield. Unable to sell the property after we moved to Nashville, they resorted to a string of rent-to-own folks, all who never seemed to get the "own" part down. All cases ended up with severe property neglect and damage, this last case being the most severe.
I'll spare you all the details on that, but the main thing is that I have a few tasks: glazing and painting the windows, painting the eaves of a 95 percent brick house, and a couple of cleanup jobs. My parents or contractors are taking care of the rest of it. Overall, it's easy money, but a pain to get to Greenfield every other day from Martin. "The Great Outdoors" this isn't, but I'm spending just as much time swatting away pissed off wasps as I am glazing the windows. I'm hoping to finish up at least most of that project today, so I can move onto painting either tomorrow or Sunday.
My parents have joined me these last few days at the house to offer direction and assess the rest of the damage. We've been making trips back and forth to my grandmother's house in Greenfield to obtain random pieces of equipment, ranging from box fans to paint sprayers, all the while seeing how fast we can get in and out of there. After one of the trips, we headed up to the local convenience store, across the street from the one I consider my first job. We got our Gatorades, and walked up to the counter. A middle-aged man was talking about his children to the store clerk, also in her 40's. The store clerk talks about how her son is a recent father, and that he has an exciting profession lined up: wrestling. Local bars sponsor "fight nights" in rural West Tennessee, despite legislation against it. She beamed with pride as she told how he was training very hard, and making money at it. This was shocking as it was, but the man then pipes up and says his son was doing the same thing! I came to a very quick conclusion that the "sport" had overtaken the town's youth. I wonder if the grade school bully is getting the crap kicked out of him.
While I admit I got a laugh out of it, I didn't think any less of these two boys' career paths. I don't see a high success rate in their future, but at least they seem to be enjoying it. While in Greenfield, I was constantly reminded how "sad" this side of the state was by my parents. My dad seems to take no small amount of pride telling random locals he knows what he's up to. How he's "made it" in the Big City, how everything in Nashville is superior to the life lived in Small Town America. I get the frequent, "I bet you're glad we moved to Nashville" jabs. Lately, I've been taking great offense to those words. It's almost like we're still arguing the way we did before moving to Nashville here some six years later. I'm apparently forever in the wrong.
For the record, it was never my intention to live in Greenfield. I was uprooted with less than two years to go on a high school education, and about eight months after my paternal grandfather passed away. I still had planned to go to UT Martin, and then move far, far away from the area. While I hear constantly the praises of the Big City, I guess my inner-Democrat comes out and proclaims that "I support Small Town America" and their right to live their lives as they damn well please. There is nothing substandard about life here. The school systems are woefully under equipped, but it's because folks in the Big City have written off education for rural West Tennessee. Funding equality is non-existent, and the teacher certification standards have suffered as a result. Even in Small Towns like Martin, the prevailing attitude is to let the even smaller towns get by with less.
The claim that wholesome entertainment is lacking doesn't hold water, because your and my concept of a good time is likely worlds apart. Some professions can't survive in a Small Town job market, but many others flourish. There is no reason to be condescending. In short, there is nothing wrong with a Small Town. It's an injustice to convince yourself otherwise.
More than anything else, the last few days have been a revelation that our state and federal lawmakers need to ensure equal protection for our rural farming communities and urban areas under law and the almighty dollar. It is wrong that the entire Weakley County school system could be funded on a fraction of what we spend on an F-16 fighter plane. It's time to realize that our most important responsibility as a nation is to educate our children, no matter where they are. Big City, Inner City, Small Town ... they all matter. In a different set of circumstances, it could be you who feels compelled to fight for the underdog. It's time for real solutions, not talk of regional superiority.