Monday, May 18, 2009
Back when I was in college (yes, I did go to college. It really shows, doesn't it?) I had this friend named Ian who referred to the county to our south as "The Perry County Time Warp." (To be fair to Perry County, Ian also randomly labeled things throughout the fraternity house with post-it notes. And he was from New Jersey.)
This "time warp" description, in a number of ways, was spot on. The dirt bikes, the 4 wheelers, the houses that had seen a better era, the large pick-up trucks, the NASCAR bumper stickers... Have you been to Perry County lately? Has it changed much? Are rich out-of-state people buying up country acreages and erecting mansions? Have I offended you yet?
Anyway, I tell you this because I laughed heartily at the time warp description back in the good old college days and I am now paying the price. You see, I live in my own time warp: a time warp that is much more expansive and remote than any I have ever known in Central Pennsylvania.
Folks, I am stuck somewhere between the Klondike Gold Rush, the bootlegging days of Prohibition (hence the home winemaking), Willie Nelson's Farm Aid of the 1980s and the modern day dinosaur museum that promotes creationism. Oh dear. I also have never sent a text message and only use my cell phone, maybe, four times a month. Maybe. And I am surrounded by 4-wheelers and large pick-up trucks. Thankfully, though, I believe I have safely dodged the NASCAR syndrome.
Why do I tell you this? I have no idea. I read something about somebody else believing in some space-time continuum and I thought "Hey!, remember that time back in college when we laughed about the Perry County time warp? I'm positive everybody wants to know about it." And as for Ian, he moved to a Caribbean island and I haven't heard from him since. Lucky bum. I hope he's stuck in some tropical time warp of his own.