Oh hi there dear reader. It’s me again. You caught me staring at this blank sheet of paper. It just doesn’t look right to me so I think I should fill it in with a bunch of silly scribble.
I’ve been thinking that if I was to name a town I might call it God Knows Where. Has a ring to it don’t you think?
I can just see the clerks at the post office checking the zip code to make sure the letter’s address was not someone’s idea of a joke.
Come to think of it, it might be a good and fitting name for this little town in which I currently dwell. Something similar to Truth Or Consequences, New Mexico. Although Caliente is an unusual and exotic sounding name for a rural Nevada town, I think God Knows Where would be even more fitting.
We have no stoplight here. Our nearest McDonalds and Walmart are more than a hundred miles away. Starbucks hasn’t found us. We are a population of about a thousand souls in this here far flung corner of south eastern Nevada.
If you’re coming from Los Vegas or Salt Lake City it seems as though you must pass through a time warp to get here.
Simple, quaint, old fashioned and authentic we are. And we like it this way.
If you want to talk to your neighbor, there’s no need to call him. You’ll probably run across him at the PO as you check your mail or see him at the grocery store.
The railroad found us many years ago. Freight trains travel through here all the time. The engineers driving those trains may view this little oasis in the desert as something like a film set from an old-time western movie.
Thank goodness we’re far from Hollywood.
Peace, quiet and beautiful scenery still exist in our world. They are all around us here.
A dog barks as a car drives slowly through town. Kids trudge off to school in the early morn. The stream trickles along by the cottonwood trees as the bright sun pops over the eastern canyon wall. The hillside’s shadow disappears as our little town is slowly bathed in a golden light.
It’s the start of another beautiful day as I wake up and greet the morning in Caliente, Nevada, (which should more properly be called God Knows Where).
Sirens, traffic congestion, smog, shootings and human degradation — we don’t have them. But they are waiting for you in abundance in the big city.
If you don’t recognize a person, a car or truck, then they must be from out of town. And they are rare here.
It may resemble what a large portion of Middle America looked like in the fifties. It’s a town seeped in memories decades past with plain, honest, decent citizens. You could say it it’s a bit like the Mayberry TV show with a modern friendly twist.
Come by and see us anytime. I think you’ll like it here.
As you pack up and head out, if people ask you where you’re bound, just tell them “I’m off to God Knows Where”.
Dan O’Connor can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org