Oh Slab City, where have you gone?
I looked around to find you the other day. And when I couldn’t, I realized that you’re just like everywhere else now. With territories and divisions keeping us apart.
Maybe it’s the media’s fault (isn’t that always the case?).
Or perhaps we should point our fingers at the innerwebs for bringing in a whole new crowd.
Whoever or whatever is to blame for your sudden rise to stardom isn’t nearly as important as what I’m about to say.
I’m sorry, but I think I’ve fallen out of love with you.
It wasn’t always like this.
Long ago you were the Last Free Place for adventurous spirits who cherished freedom, independence and community.
But that is no longer the case. You’re just . . . different.
Maybe it’s the fences worn around your dusty roads. I simply cannot love a free place that keeps people out. The irony is clear.
The walls have multiplied and so have the lines.
Between Slabbers and Snabbers like us.
You used to bring us together, in places like The Lizard Tree Library. But no longer are you open to all at any hour of the day. When dusk falls you reserve your new walls for that small club of tough souls who stick it out and shoo us away.
Camps are now permanent establishments with structures and ramshackle ranches built to last.
Snabber beware if you encroach. Fly away fast, you aren’t as welcomed as you used to be.
Admit it. You’re not the same and others know it too. The boundaries seem to have spread away and beyond, to more welcoming communities that could possibly thrive in the brutal heat.
To know you in the past was to love you. But that was then and today is different I’m sorry to say.
Maybe we’ll be back. Maybe we won’t, time will tell. Until that day comes, I wish you the best and hope that you can return to the loving spirit that was once the heart of who you were.