You've inspired to share one of my own that I worked on about a week ago,
Salzmark Like yours', it hasn't been properly edited yet, so there may be a few errors still.
We don’t go out to Cottontail Field
April 2nd, 1987
At the Northwest end of my town, there’s an open field of tall Switchgrass. I don’t know why it’s called “Cottontail Field”. It just is, I guess. Anyway, we don’t go out to. There’s even a sign that says “Private Property: Intruders Will Be Shot,” but nobody actually owns the field. The town just put it out there to keep everyone out. An unspoken secret of sorts. Of course, that doesn’t stop the local kids from trying. But the adults try to keep us out even harder.
Boy howdy to the cops patrol the Northwest end of town like it’s a trouble neighborhood. Truth is, barely anyone lives out there. Just some old folks about as ornery and adventurous as a tortoise. I don’t know why they try to hard to keep everyone out, though. Nothing bad ever happens there. Fact is, a number of folks went in out of curiosity in the middle of the night, and came back out just fine. It was so boring they never went for it again. As far as I can tell, nothing even happened. Silly.
I’ve even spoken to those who checked out Cottontail Field over the years. There’s Mr. Barmen, who owns the local grocery store. He’s lived here his whole life even though he ran track, and was good at it. Damn good. He even had a scholarship, I hear. His old photos from his days in the track ‘n’ field competitions adorn the walls of his store by the entrance. He’s real proud of ‘em. I asked him once why he didn’t try for the big times if he was so good.
He shrugged and said, “No reason. I figured it was just time to settle down. Most athletes never amount of nothin’ anyhow. This seemed like the better option.” Fair enough.
Next there’s Lucy Cranston, who went out with some friends on a dare in middle school. She’s one of the oldest people living town. So old, that she’s the last of the group who went out to Cottontail Field. They all spent the rest of their lives here. Found a good local man, married, had kids, and died. All except for Mrs. Lucy. Shame, too, because she piano music is something else.
“Oh, well, you know how competitive the life of a musician is,” she told me as she played one of Bach’s numbers. “I probably would have been eaten out there, trying to make it in this world. At least with Brian and his mechanic’s shop, I was well-taken care of.”
When asked of Cottontail Field, she couldn’t think of a single remarkable thing about it, except for how untouched by human hands it was.
“No trails, no one tending to it, a whole load of nothing,” she said. “Can’t see what all the fuss is about.”
And third, there’s Sam Dipko, the Cottontail Inn’s proprietor. It’s one of the nicest local inns you’ll ever see in any town. No surprise, considering he was studying to be an engineer at one time. No idea why he settled for a pathetic little burg like this. He could be designing skyscrapers somewhere like New York City, but instead he settled for here.
“Me, put up buildings in the big city?” he laughed. “They must have a million guys who can do that who’d be in line ahead of me. No, son, I was better off doing something I knew I could live off of, and the Cottontail Inn is it!”
When asked of the field: “Boring. Waste of my evening. Not even a wild dog or a skunk, because those would’ve at least been something! Don’t bother, kid. If the sheriff wants to be a nervous nelly, let ‘im! You just focus on your Quarterbacking with the team. You boys win that championship, you can write your own tickets.”
So, I’m writing this before I head off to Cottontail Field to check it out for myself. No way is it as dull as they said. There is a wall of silence surrounding this field and I am going to get to the bottom of it, even if those who got curious before me won’t tell.
I should probably get to bed early, because the team has practice tomorrow, but one late night won’t anything. Won’t be the first time, and I was always crisp on the field, anyway, so I’ll be fine. I know Mom thinks I shouldn’t set my hopes on that football scholarship too much, but I’m the best. Cal, Mike, Ben, and I are going to carry this team to the scholarships. See you in a while, future me! I’ll be sure to let myself know hoe Cottontail Field was.
April 3rd, 1987, just after midnight
It is late, but i’m back. i am beat, just absolutely tired. The stupid Deputy almost caught me walking in. And for what? Nothing. A whole bunch of nothing. Just an empty field. A miserable, wet field full of dried out, yellowed, stinking grass that was somehow covered in moisture. How does that even work? It was the biggest waste of my time ever. I am never going back out there, Barmen, Mrs. Lucy, and Sam were right. Now it’s past 12AM and I have practice tomorrow. Maybe I’ll skip.
April 3, later
I skipped. I thought to myself, “Screw it, I’m tired. So, I’ll skip.”
Coach can cut me from the team if he wants, but last night took it out on me even harder than I thought. It’s not a big deal, anyway.
april four
Deciding whether to go to practice or not. I am having a really hard making myself get motivated. It’s not like any of us will actually get that scholarship, anyway. There are probably a dozen teams we still have to beat, if we even can. I dunno. maybe its just a phase. Probably still just tired.
april 5
This sucks.
april
si6
i dont know whats wrong. i just cant get excited by footfall anymore
april whatever
u know what? I’d be better off getting a job at the giftshop or something after high school. I’m not half bad fixing a car. I could work for Mrs. Lucy’s husband until he hands the mechanic shop to me, even. At least I’d be guaranteed to be making money. I mean, it’s a long shot to hit the big times from where I’m sitting.
Maybe I’ll just quit the team and settle. Could I do that? I mean, the guys are relying on me. Maybe I just need to get my head in the game.
March 8th, 1991
Hey, there, past me. Been a long time since I last touched this thing. Well, you’ll be happy to know I eventually got everything straightened out. I quit the team and started focusing more on settling down and getting myself a steady job around here. Everyone was disappointed, even mad, at me, but I think in time they’ll see this was for the best. I got a full-time job repairing roads and even paving new ones. The work’s hard, but at least it pays. I have work. I can’t believe I used to worry about things like being able to tackle a guy twice my size or outpace someone who could have tackled me and taken out my legs.
Life is great here. Settling was so much easier than fighting for that stupid dream.
Guess I’ll get to the point. I remembered this journal because Bobby Henson came by asking about my visit to the field. Lord only knows how he found out, but this IS a small town. I told him not to waste his time, not that he has much to spare with his SATs and other exams. I talk to his father and hear he’s one of the brightest kids this town’s ever seen. Well, I wish him well. Once he gets back from the field that is. Don’t know why they can never resist.