| Part 2 of "HOMETOWN" by guest author Tim Landy is a biographical story of his hometown, Mt. Pleasant, PA., and his experience with heart problems. This piece is filed in the category BW Visitor Writings. In reality Mt. Pleasant is not my hometown. Instead, I have lived all of my life four miles to the east, halfway up Chestnut Ridge in northern Bullskin Township, Fayette County. Often my address and telephone number lead people to believe I live in the town, which is located in the more affluent Westmoreland County. My family’s property is in the economically strapped, though I think more beautiful, more southern county. The discrepancy between mailing address and residence has always been simple for me to understand even as a child, but let me try to explain the fact and some people look at me as if I am presenting them with some geopolitical mystery. When I was in ninth grade at Connellsville Junior High East, my English teacher, Mrs. McPherson, gave the class a punctuation test. One part included listing the names of the four banks in Connellsville, which is located in my home county, and capitalizing them correctly. For minutes I sat there in anguish. Finally, I walked quietly to her desk and whispered, “I don’t know the names of the banks in Connellsville. Mt. Pleasant is my hometown.” She looked at me through those oversized glasses with tortoise-shell frames and said quietly, “Well, alright, then list the names of the banks in Mt. Pleasant.” I don’t think she understood or even cared about my allegiance to my hometown. Correct punctuation, I suppose, was her goal. A few years ago the mayor of Mt. Pleasant put me in my place about my true citizenship. Nearly a hundred people–politicians, concerned citizens, developers, onlookers–gathered at Main Street Fitness, the gym where I’d been working out off and on for two years. They were there to argue the pros and cons of building a super-drugstore half a block away, on the town diamond. Not one given to speaking in such a public forum, I finally worked up the courage to voice my opposition to the plan. “I think building a new drugstore in Mt. Pleasant, especially a large chain drugstore, is unnecessary. It’s a threat to the three privately owned pharmacies already here. We ought to focus on what types of businesses are missing from Main Street and try to entice interested developers.” Before I had even launched into my next argument for saving the economy of our small town, the mayor inserted an unexpected ellipsis.
“Uh . . . Mr. Landy, aren’t you the one who called my office recently to complain about the railroad crossing at the east end of town?” “Yes.” “And isn’t it true that you don’t live within the borough?” “Yes,” I swallowed, my face burning and my heart pounding as I sat back down on the metal folding chair near the window. Maybe I should take a quick dive out the window now. Only two questions, not even direct accusations, and the leader of this town had tried to derail me from the discussion and alienate me from the community. Furious over this public lashing, I quickly began self-therapy: The guy’s a jerk! How dare he insinuate that I have no voice in matters that clearly affect me? Who keeps electing him anyway? Okay . . . so I don’t live in the borough. But I worked here for eight years and I bet I know more about the town and the people than he does! A few minutes’ worth of self-talk later, and I had almost convinced myself that Mt. Pleasant is my hometown. Click back on Sunday evening for Part 3 of HOMETOWN. Parts are filed in BW VISITOR WRITINGS. |
