My hometown's plight

I apologize in advance if I offend anyone.


As the final strains of “Country Road” by John Denver fade into non-existence, I drift once again into memories of my childhood. Again, I’m laying in the backseat of my mother’s Chevrolet Impala on a hot summer day and singing the song at the top of my lungs as she turns the car onto the gravel road leading to my house. Despite the air conditioning being on full blast, the relentless Texas sun is beating through the back window, making my hair stick to the back of my neck in dark sweaty ringlets

Finally, we are passing the oak trees lining both sides of the road. They stretch giant limbs high above the roadway, their leaves intertwining and forming a canopy; a haven from the heat. I sit up and lean forward, putting my face close to Mama’s as we belt out the song together.

This is one of my fondest childhood memories. The countryside in which I grew up will always be my home; the place where adventure lurked around every corner for me as a child. It now offers inner strength to me as an adult, and reminds me of “who I am” and “where I come from.”. As I walk across the well-beaten paths I’ve trod upon so many times, I’m reminded of lessons taught to me by my parents and grandparents. The countryside, beautiful and almost unspoiled, is a reminder that true beauty still exists; that is, however, about to change.

During the next several years, they will be building a 10 mile wide “superhighway” through the state of Texas. Sure it sounds great, and the developers paint a pretty picture in their speil, but they fail to point out the consequences of their goal. People’s land in the path of the highway will be seized by the way of iminate domain. In other words, the contractors will offer the landowners “rock bottom” prices for their land, if they refuse, the state takes possession, and the landowner gets nothing. Houses that have been around for a hundred years or more will be destroyed if they are in the path of the highway. In the path of this highway is a 100+ year old Czech church and cemetery. The cemetery contains bodies supposedly buried there before shortly after Texas achieved statehood. “What will be the outcome of the church and cemetery?” one person asked. The reply was grim, the historic church would be torn down and the bodies moved to another location.

This highway is coming through my hometown, and quite possibly through my mother’s property. One contractor, smirking, assured her they would tear her house down if it comes through her property. The house where I grew up, where my father lived. My mother called me tonight, and sobbing, told me of what she learned.

I always try and see the “sunny side” of things, but there’s not one here. I’m angry. Land my father sweated and cried over, land he once walked across as a boy and vowed he’d own, is in danger of being seized by cold unfeeling strangers. The majestic pecan and oak trees will be ripped from the earth, the scream of the red tail hawk will be replaced by the obnoxious honking of vehicles.

Part of me wishes I could bring back Caesar and his troops to assist me in my plight; or to stand on the property with a banner reading “Come and take it.” But then again, violence never solved anything, and “the pen is mightier than the sword.”

The contractors, dressed in high dollar suits, brag about the “thousands of people the superhighway will help,” but they fail to mention the thousands of lives it could destroy.