Comments on: Things That Disappear

By: Rona Maynard

Rona Maynard — Fri, 29 Jan 2010 00:10:54 +0000

Lovely. Sometimes I wonder if those who don’t commune with ghosts and are old enough to have them are truly alive.

By: Winston

Winston — Tue, 12 May 2009 14:10:26 +0000

Ruth, I think that piece strikes a chord in most of us. I have always lived in my hometown. Yet, I see the ghosts on streets that no longer bustle as commerce here has crept steadily eastward. Us Boomers have hit that spot in the road where we no longer envision the highway spinning out endlessly before us as the pop-youth culture of our day encouraged us to believe. Somehow we know when it’s time fasten our eyes more and more on the sideview mirror rather than straight ahead.
But take heart. The fine print at the bottom of that mirror reads: Things may appear farther away than they are.

By: Steve

Steve — Tue, 12 May 2009 13:21:50 +0000

Great piece, Ruth.

I saw and heard those ghosts in the Amarillo wind when we buried Pop in February. It was so odd to feel the hometown attachment knowing that, with his passing, I’ve no reason to travel there anymore other than the occasional obligatory decorating of the family graves.

For most of us, “hometown” is a choice; few of our generation have families who stayed in the same place long enough for there not to be a choice that has to be made. I was born in my father’s hometown, Childress, and was six when we left there. After brief stops in Borger and Vernon, we settled in Amarillo. I was eight when we arrived and 18 when I left. I lived there for only 10 my 57 years, but I identify it as my hometown.

By: g

Sun, 10 May 2009 21:34:49 +0000

I loved this. These feelings come, no matter what the setting, when revisiting the past. I don’t know Midland, but your piece immediately reminded me of the small town I grew up in.

By: Anne Gibert

Anne Gibert — Sat, 09 May 2009 18:08:19 +0000

I have been driving around Fairbanks with Jerry. Streets are named after people he knew when he was young. We saw the University on a hill above the freeway, and he said, “My office was in that building up there, on the 7th floor.”

“So you looked down on all this,” I said.

He replied, “None of this was there, then.”

But he longed to come back here, ghosts and all. Why, I wonder.
So here I am, living with Jerry’s ghosts. It’s an odd feeling.

By: Craig

Craig — Sat, 09 May 2009 17:24:28 +0000

Very nice Ruth

By: Paula Burney

Paula Burney — Sat, 09 May 2009 05:36:47 +0000

Hey Ruth,

It’s funny, we always had our family eat outs in cafeterias too. I’m fond of Picadilly now but we used to eat at Morrison’s when they were alive. Sadly, those are gone too.

By: Cindy A

Cindy A — Sat, 09 May 2009 03:31:51 +0000

I drove through Midland on my way to a funeral last summer. You are right. A pretty desolate place even if you didn’t grow up there. Amazingly, it’s considered to be the “nice place” in comparison to next-door Odessa. And, oh, man, if you ever journey north as I did, you know where the edge of the earth is. It’s that caliche desert north of Odessa where the only sign of life are those ENORMOUS wind turbines. It’s a landscape worthy of science fiction. Good thing you escaped, Ruth.