Earth is so much a part of my childhood.
Oil City. The earth as a resource. Not like connecting again to the source of life. Unless crude oil is the source of life. Which, maybe a case could be made…..
As a child, and even young adult, being from Oil City seemed important, a source of historic pride. The first, the hub.
Now, it’s sad. What has oil been a source for, for that community? Anyone who had wealth from it moved out long ago. They are no longer part of that community. I suppose some folks still have residuals from wells on their property.
What has oil been a resource for? Pain. Poverty. Sickness. Stench. Ghosts.
Earth as a child meant work. Pick rocks. Pick and snap beans. Pick and pit cherries. Be hot. Get up early.
Hunting. Be cold. Get up early. Necessary to protect the garden and orchard. Necessary to save money on meat.
Actually, the garden and orchard were necessary, too. To save money on veggies and fruits, especially in the winter.
Why could these things not have been joyful? Why did we not talk about the land? The process? Our connections to our family history? Why was it just another chore? Maybe for a bookish kid like me, it always would have been. But I’d like to think I’d see it differently, if it was presented differently.
Maybe that’s why it all felt like work. It came from necessity, not curiosity, joy, connection, desire. But from fear and need.
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