Linda Rochester - A Love Affair with Place: An excerpt from her story The Good, The Bad, The Ugly and Me
Who is that good man that the Bible talks of? Looking around the church of my childhood, I thought of him as the Sunday School Superintendent or the Choir Director. That's what I thought. I'm sure of it. His way always prospered: a new garage, a larger car, a refrigerator from Sears, a black and white TV. The women of the family seemed to prosper as well: new dresses, silk stockings, a mink coat, a pantry full of supplies. And what of his children: circling the Dairy Queen, store-bought dresses for special occasions, going to the movies, an occasional trip to the beach. The land of milk and honey. The South circa 1950's, the land of my childhood dreams.
When did it all end for me? I think it ended when I found out that Theresa Gravette's Thumbalina doll was in the attic weeks before Santa brought it at Christmas, but the darkness had already begun to creep over the dream several years earlier. I think I remember the gnawing begin when the news broke about Eugene Brown. Anyway, something changed for me. Some dark knowledge made its way into my happiest moments. And the landscape--the southern landscape--changed for me as well for now the South of my imagination included the place where Eugene Brown became a man.
I remember the story of Eugene Brown in bits and pieces. The only thing I really saw myself was the house that sat deep in the country where the horrible crime occurred. It was the perfect setting for a crime-an isolated frame house with paint flecking off and a dingy porch with some worn out chairs on front. The brush around the house was ragged, and the road that led up to it was dusty brown. Poverty lived there. You could tell it, and yet some desperate soul had planted a row of zinnias in the garden that weren't gone yet and the last of the tomatoes were rotting on the vine. Where was the Brown house? I couldn't take you there now if I tried even though I remember where most of the landmark places in Clay County existed. I know where Clairmont Springs was, the old train tunnel, the hanging tree in Cragford, the approximate location of Old Town, High Falls up above Pyriton, the Presbyterian Church at Hatchet Creek. Yes, my memory is fine for locations of the past, but I couldn't find the Brown place. Maybe it's gone now-why I'm sure it is--like the all of the people who lived inside.
The Arsenic Spring at Clairmont Springs
