Days Gone By

There is a place called Rockville, Missouri, and the road into town looks like this:

According to the census numbers taken in 2000, it had a population of 162.  At its peak, some 50 or 60 years ago, it was a city of approximately 400.  The small-town life of Rockville was akin to countless other places across the country, almost stereotypical in its relative isolation.  There was a schoolhouse, a grocery store, a church, a pool hall, and a creek.  There was humidity, bugs, grain silos, fireworks, and rats.  The barbershop and post office were ten miles to the south in a neighboring town.

An association of simplicity is too often attributed to these towns, in those days gone by.  Life in a small town was no less difficult than life in a metropolis.  People rose early, went to work and school, came home, ate dinner, and slogged off to bed.  The stress of responsibility, finance, and the unknowable future weighed just as heavily on the sunburnt heads and shoulders of the townsfolk of Rockville as they did upon the suited, hurried salesman in St. Louis.  The difference between Rockville and Elsewhere, USA was a simple one:  It was my father's home.

Stories from Rockville will be presented here at my leisure, and in no particular chronological order.  Many are important and unique moments from his childhood, and are therefore important to me.  The stories may not be delivered in a timely fashion, but they will presented without embellishment.

Most of the time.