blindspot
i spent my early life at a small town in michigan bisected by a major highway; my maternal grandparents in a large rich 7 bedroom 3 bathroom house on one side of the highway and my paternal grandparents in a trailer under oaks on the other. my parents were unwitting second cousins, meaning my great-grandmothers on both sides were sisters - estranged by one sister's decision to marry a half-german potawatomi man, last names lost to a cold absence of correspondence. that their descendants would marry to produce my sister and me feels entirely goddamn relevant, as we were named, again unwittingly, directly after these feuding sisters. several strange events have threaded through my childhood, but i don't doubt that's the magic of any childhood, and this recount here today specifically recalls the hangar theater in athens, michigan, and the (apparently two) gas stations that bracket its location. you see, in all my years growing up in, and returning to visit, this small gloomy slice of rural economic preserve, i was hard convinced the gas station facing the highway was only ever the one building. my maternal grandparents live just behind the water tower, you see, which stands beside the old firehouse and community outdoor stage, and no matter which way we left the block to walk to the gas station for a snack or soda, it was always only ever the single destination, with the warning sign in the glass door about the half-inch rise of the threshold, that you must mind your step. a handful of years ago, an old friend agreed to join me in a ghost hunt in the river park, a favorite childhood past-time despite the danger of raccoons mudding for crayfish. during our coordination efforts, my friend mentioned the two gas stations as a marker for the street. confused, i explained the town only ever had the one gas station, though it had been through remodel lately and was half new. we argued a bit but on her arrival i showed her, see, just the one gas station, despite what google maps said, then some house fronts and finally the library. this year, however, my maternal aunt moved back from out of state, took up at a small house directly behind the gas station, and joyfully employed herself in the community theater, housed in an old air craft silo... that sits between the town's two gas stations. now, this theater building is not small. it used to house planes. if there were ever two gas stations during my childhood, walking that street as often as we did, we would have goddamn noticed a whole half-cylinder building, not to mention that there were, indeed, TWO places to visit for candy or soda. from my grandparents' front yard, i still cannot see the theater nor the second gas station, i still only see the small historic library, firehouse, water tower, beloved original gas station. but once on the highway sidewalk, i can look down the stretch and see two actual goddamn gas stations, with a large theater between that my aunt insists has been there since her childhood. i still don't know exactly what to make of this, especially since my roomy also insisted there were two gas stations but later saw only the one, so i mean, basically, guys, i think i don't really belong in this berenstain-ass-stain timeline. two gas stations and president trump and shit. eesh.
