Chapter 3

"We're glad you came by to visit, Uncle Chris."

"Yeah."

"Thanks guys. I'll have to try and make it a little more often." After a round of hugs, Christopher throws his stuff in the trunk and then he fires up his '67 Chevelle.

Everybody waves goodbye to him from the porch as he does a u-turn to leave, but he has to use the neighbor's driveway across the street to finally get headed in the right direction.

First stop, he is going to go visit his mom for a little bit, and then he is going to drive around for a while doing a long overdue nostalgia tour of past memories. It has been almost ten years since he has been home for any length of time. After he left the Army he stayed for a few weeks before moving to the Los Angeles area to work on his writing career.

As he is heading down Greenback Lane he looks over to his left and sees a shopping center that was not completely there before. As he crosses over Hazel Avenue he looks back over his right shoulder and sees the house near the car wash where they lived before they moved to Folsom in his childhood. As he goes over Hazel, on the right is a Walgreen's and on the left is a Wal-Mart. Those definitely were not there the last time he was home. A little further up on the right is an old gas station with the star shaped roof, but it has long since had its named changed. Probably a half dozen times, Christopher thinks, as he realizes life waits for no one. If he's not careful, it just might pass him by and leave him in the dust.

He is a veteran, he is a successful writer who is about to have one of his books turned into a movie, and he has invested his money wisely while relying on his knowledge and getting his hands dirty to make every possible dollar of profit, so he is more than rich, but he feels like something is missing. Being back home and being around Alex and his family makes that feeling intensify, and the sad thing is he knows he has only himself to blame.

As he sighs, he says out loud for the whole world to hear. "I have become a surly cynical son of a bitch." He is angry because he feels that everything he and his warrior brothers and sisters fought for to bring to Iraq, the American politicians are taking away here at home. "I just don't understand why the Democrats can't see what they are doing. Are they so afraid of the night, that they need big brother holding their hand at every possible moment?"

As he comes up on Main Avenue, "At least Wild Sports is still there."

"Hey, mom. How are you today?"

"Oh you know, getting older and slower."

"Aren't we all?"

"Heading out today, I guess, huh?"

"Yeah, got a long way to travel. Hey, you remember that big manor on Greenback across the street up on the corner from that start-shaped gas station?"

"Yes I do."

"What was that thing called?"

"Oh god, uh, I think it was called something manor. Why?"

"Oh, just doing some sight-seeing on my way out of town." After several hours of visiting he sincerely says, "Well, mom, I'll try to call more."

"I love you."

"Yeah, I love you too, mom." he says hugging her hard. "Here, take this and buy yourself something nice."

"Oh, I can't take this."

"You can and you will. Please, I have more than enough."

"This is a thousand dollars."

"Buy something nice or spread it out over time. Have fun with it, mom."

"Okay! Thank you." Martha says with tears in her eyes, as she hugs him again and kisses his cheek.

As Christopher is driving away he just can't help shake the sad feeling that he is never going to see her again. It is breaking his heart, and yet he does not turn around. "Life lies in front of me, and that behind me will only weigh me down."

He shifts into fourth gear, and then has to start down shifting immediately as he comes up to the intersection where Greenback ends into Madison Avenue. He turns left and heads towards Folsom, where most of his school years were spent.

After he passes Negro Bar, "I'm surprised somebody hasn't made them change the name, since everybody is so damn sensitive these days." He goes around the bend in the road and comes up on an intersection that only used to go left to head out and around this side of Folsom Lake, now there is a whole new bridge. "Wow!"

He ignores it and goes straight, taking the old bridge known as Rainbow Bridge. He goes up the hill, and as he passes Sutter Street and Old Folsom, a million wonderful memories flood his heart and mind and he smiles. How many days were spent wandering around Old Folsom and the little store at the end of it owned by an Asian couple who were wonderfully kind.

As soon as he can, he takes a right and goes up to Sibley Street and hangs a left. He comes up to the trailer park and he pulls over and stops. Just before the trailer park there is a new apartment complex in a spot that used to be one of his favorite fields to play in, with some awesome trees to climb. Definitely the rock piles that were behind the trailer court are long gone, replaced with a gated community. "Ah, progress." he says, only being slightly cynical.

He looks at the second trailer that he spent much of his childhood in. It's a different trailer, but it still brings back memories. Then he looks at the first trailer that had an adorable little redhead girl that was his friend, and that he and her explored their burgeoning sexualities with each other as preteens. Later he heard that she remembers that he took advantage of her, and yet he remembers that she was his first girlfriend. "I guess perception is different to all, and it definitely changes with time."

Then he looks several trailers down at another trailer where an older teen or young man got him drunk on the beer with the silver bull on it, and took him out into a hang out for teenagers just inside the rock piles and dry raped him. His name was John Potts. The next day he was hung over and the anger and confusion was festering. He never told anybody about it until he was in counseling while still in the Army, as his anger kept growing.

As he continues up the road on his left was a friend of his named Darin, and then the next house was the home of two very sweet girls, and then the next home was the home of his favorite teacher of all time, and his son that he also played with. He had him for fourth grade, but always stopped by when he was still in the area.

Christopher pulls up in the driveway. "Hi, does Mr. Hunter still live here, by chance?"

"I'm sorry no. We bought the house some years back from a young man whose last name was Hunter."

"Probably his son. Okay, well thanks. Sorry to bother you."

"No problem." he says with a smile.

It doesn't take Christopher a half mile to realize just how much Folsom has changed. There are new roads where only rock piles and a gun club used to be. He heads towards an old swimming spot and sees some more new roads. "Jesus." As he goes forward he is now on Prairie City Road.

He goes a little further up to another old swimming spot, and there is another whole new high school there. "Wow!" He goes up to Highway Fifty and turns towards Scott Road. In fact he gets off on Scott Road and goes over the freeway into a whole new section of Folsom. "Son of a bitch, they have a college. Good for them. Wow, East Bidwell certainly has changed."

He goes up and turns right at the MacDonald's. "At least the Duchow Apartments are still there." From here he should be able to find the schools he went to. He goes up for a ways, and then turns left and up on the left is the school where Mr. Hunter taught. School looks like it is in session, so he doesn't bother to stop and get out. He turns right and comes up on Folsom Park where he played little league baseball.