Everything is Known

I was born in Decatur, which I often refer to as “the butthole of Illinois.”  It is in the center of the state, near Springfield which is the capital city about 30 minutes away.  When you are in the Midwest, every time you say how many minutes it takes to drive somewhere, it equates to the number - miles - distance from the location as well. In the land of cornfields and soybeans, there is no traffic, most days are very  predictable.  The only thing that might delay your commute would be a giant tractor on the road(s) or a possible car wreck, which still would not deter your route for more than what would be an “extremely rare and forgivable occasion.”  

Growing up in a small town felt even smaller because my parents were both ministers in one of the mid-size churches that hosted an annual “Windows of Christmas” drive thru experience for everyone in the town to come see the lights and live nativity scenes around the holidays every year.  That “windows of Christmas” was one of the highlights of church life.  I looked forward to that shit every year and would sign up early to get the “good shifts” and the “best roles.” The ginger-bread-man and snowman costumes were the best, even though they were outside in the freezing cold weather, because you could dance and run up to the cars to see actual human reactions.  As if that were enough to keep me warm, I would always do things to make the people in the cars smile and laugh.  That was the best feeling in the world, seeing their grins get bigger as a result of something I said or did while wearing a jenky homemade Christmas costume.  

Those characters were much better than the “angel” costume which did require special care in the “hair and makeup” chair, however, that role required you to stand still holding a fake candle and looking all serene for a minimum of 30 minutes with no other human interaction.  If you were lucky there was music playing in the background for your shift, although it was not the “All I want for Christmas is you” good stuff, it was lame holiday church songs like drummer boy or silent night.  Not really much of a “vibe” in that one.  

The other options were live scenes with groups of people which were always fun because people would talk and crack jokes, but there was also the risk that you could be there with someone who is clearly attracted to you in an awkward way or you’d be on a shift with the guy/gal that didn’t wear deodorant and wreaked of body odor (and no one wants to hurt his feelings by mentioning it).  

We saw the same people every week and we watched children age and old people start to give away their stuff in the church garage sales, move into an assisted living center and then pass on.  My dad was also a member of Rotary and seemed to know everyone in town, but that never interested me much.  I did recognize at an early age that the social recognition from having parents who were someone involved and/or known in a small town feeds the ego a little.  I remember thinking that “this must be what it feels like to be a celebrity.”  Definitely felt he needed to be “perfect” although we had a dark cloud hanging over our household.  I always thought it was a secret when I was younger, but now I realize there are no secrets.  Everything is known.