Dear Ainsworth, I’m sorry.

27 Apr

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I have been known to “undersell” my upbringing in Ainsworth. I may even, at one horrifyingly disrespectful teen-angst filled moment in my life, have cursed my father for raising me in such a barren wasteland. The fact that the town’s second name was officially “The Middle of Nowhere” (as coined by a professional horse-shoer or bowler or something…) was a point of embarrassment for me. I’m not going to go on – I don’t wish to admit the disdainful thoughts I’ve had about the land of my birth. I’m ashamed.

So, here begins my official apology. They say (through countless quotes and sayings that I am too lazy to Google right now) that seeing things through the eyes of your children is, um, smart. Yeah, smart. Innocent eyes and all that… Anyway, they’re right (not sure who “they” are, but spot on they are). Bringing my young children to my hometown is now one of my very favorite things to do. This is where they learn to get dirty. They run and run and run without A.J. and I freaking out about them getting hit by a car or being carted off by a rogue child thief. They turn farm implements into X-wing fighters. They get to go to work with their grandpa. They are so under the influence of fresh air that they almost (see “almost”) forget to quibble with one another. Then, every evening the over-consumption of this same fresh air knocks them into heavy dreamless snoring.

And they LOVE EVERY MOMENT of their time in Ainsworth. Me too. It reminds me of the things that made me the blogger that I am today (Ha! I’m a blogger!). Folks, my sister and I are very much defined by our years in the middle of nowhere. I think I’ll blog about it more often. I am desperate to share with you stories of our 1-room schoolhouse days, recess soccer, high school speech contests (and the bus rides taking us there), corn freezing, cleaning pig buildings, tubing down Pine Creek, church lock-ins, being snowed in at Gramma’s, running away from teachers in irrigation ditches, Oh, Oh, OH! I could GO ON! So just wait. It’ll happen. Nothing can stop me now (except for the extensively afore mentioned sleep deprivation).

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3 Responses to “Dear Ainsworth, I’m sorry.”

  1. Jerrry April 27, 2011 at 4:37 pm #

    Right – That is exactly what I have been saying all along. Remember I only married Christina because she went to school in a one room school house. Well not really, but it is a bonus for a wannabe historian like me.

    • Christina April 27, 2011 at 6:03 pm #

      My husband has three ‘r’s in his name? How did I not know that?

      • Stacy April 27, 2011 at 6:10 pm #

        REALLY??? That’s your ONLY response to his comment? Also, Jerry, to me you ARE an historian.

  2. Elizabeth Berkland April 28, 2011 at 10:25 am #

    Ah…one-room schools. 9 years of my life including one year in which my brother and I were the only students… I think that about says it all.

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