While listening to the names of my classmates being called to receive their diplomas at my graduation ceremony yesterday, I got to thinking about my school's alma mater. The lyrics were printed in the back of our programs, and the school chorus sang it beautifully at the start of the ceremony. There was something about that alma mater that just will not fit with the school anymore - Something that will need to be changed in the very near future.
First, a little background information about my school.
My high school sits in the vast pine flatwoods of north Florida on what used to be a small road named after a portion of my family. The only things to be seen outside of my school's campus are pine trees...And lots of them. It really is a peaceful place when there are not 2,700 raucous teenagers rampaging about the campus.
Recently, though, that road has been widened to four lanes, extended farther south to connect with another highway, and renamed to "******** Parkway." This new "Parkway" is only a small part of a huge development that is slated to completely envelop my school's campus within just a few years. Now, here comes the predicament for my school.
The first two lines of our school's alma mater are:
"Oh, **************, our alma mater,
Set around the mighty pines..."
What is my school to do when those "mighty pines" are torn down to make way for more and more homes? I guess those pines aren't so mighty, after all! But, really, this will be a problem. It will be no longer relevant to have those lyrics in our alma mater when there are no more "mighty pines" surrounding the school. So what is to be done?
I suggest re-tooling the lyrics to something like this:
"Oh, *******, our alma mater,
Set around the mighty developments."
...or even better...
"Oh, ********, our alma mater,
Set around the urban sprawl."
As sarcastic as it may sound, this will become a real predicament for my school in the future. What do yall reckon will happen to our alma mater?
Showing posts with label Florida Destruction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Florida Destruction. Show all posts
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Friday, February 01, 2008
"Adirolf"
Before you read this entry, I would like you to read the previous one, especially the last section. It can shed some light on this poem.
adirolF
By: (HurricaneTeen)
A gravel road
cut out of swamp and pine
winds through the memories
of my mind.
My thoughts wind down
this road of memories,
taking me back
to that family of mine.
We lived humbly
among the
cows and swine.
We ate a few gophers,
and a gator
from time to time.
Old folks sat
in rocking chairs,
waving as I
passed them by.
I loved them all dearly,
and I considered them
mine.
Our house was
built of cypress,
and our spirit of
heartwood pine.
But our life was
soon to unravel,
like a spool
of cotton twine.
That gravel road
is a highway,
and the pine exists
nevermore.
The rocking chairs
sit empty,
and the people crave
more and more.
I do not recognize
this place
without the hammocks
of palm and oak.
The gophers were
buried and suffocated,
and the land
covered with houses
like a cloak.
Our swamps now sit empty,
The panthers no longer run free.
Our river is choked with toxins,
And shredded are the backs
Of the manatee.
Our culture is dying,
Our Southern flag
No longer can we see.
Our house now sits empty,
No old folks left
To wave at me.
Oh!
How the heart aches
Inside of me!
Take me back
to my road of memories!
Take me away
from this place!
My people are gone,
but not forgotten.
The extermination
of a race.
adirolF
By: (HurricaneTeen)
A gravel road
cut out of swamp and pine
winds through the memories
of my mind.
My thoughts wind down
this road of memories,
taking me back
to that family of mine.
We lived humbly
among the
cows and swine.
We ate a few gophers,
and a gator
from time to time.
Old folks sat
in rocking chairs,
waving as I
passed them by.
I loved them all dearly,
and I considered them
mine.
Our house was
built of cypress,
and our spirit of
heartwood pine.
But our life was
soon to unravel,
like a spool
of cotton twine.
That gravel road
is a highway,
and the pine exists
nevermore.
The rocking chairs
sit empty,
and the people crave
more and more.
I do not recognize
this place
without the hammocks
of palm and oak.
The gophers were
buried and suffocated,
and the land
covered with houses
like a cloak.
Our swamps now sit empty,
The panthers no longer run free.
Our river is choked with toxins,
And shredded are the backs
Of the manatee.
Our culture is dying,
Our Southern flag
No longer can we see.
Our house now sits empty,
No old folks left
To wave at me.
Oh!
How the heart aches
Inside of me!
Take me back
to my road of memories!
Take me away
from this place!
My people are gone,
but not forgotten.
The extermination
of a race.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Ghost Light Road
Back before "development" began "improving" our quality of life in this part of the county in which I live [extreme sarcasm in use here], there was an old legend floating among the endless pine farms that used to exist here. I'm sure you've heard of haunted houses, haunted libraries, and maybe even a haunted lighthouse, but we like to do things a little bit differently here. We had our own haunted road.
The road's original name was Bombing Range Road, as it provided access to an airfield and bombing range operated by the U.S. Navy in the years before and during World War II. A few years back (before I came into the world) the road was officially renamed Greenbriar Road for "real estate reasons". Regardless of what the road was officially named, we locals had only one name for it: Ghost Light Road.
Ghost Light Road was a perfectly straight, limestone and sand road that cut through the pine plantations and cypress swamps of my beloved home. If you visited this area back in those wonderful years, and happened to venture onto Greenbriar Road at night, you were met with a very interesting phenomenon.
Driving down the bumpy dirt road, your first thoughts would be "where the heck does this road go?" It would have been the darkest of night, with the light of millions of stars and the moon filtering through the tall pine trees being the only relief from the pitch black. The fresh scent of pine would fill your nose, and the cool air of the swamp would provide relief from the otherwise muggy weather. As you bumped along, you would begin to notice a light - a single light, as if a motorcycle's headlight - approaching you. The light would approach for minutes on end, and as you wonder what such a light could be, it disappears into the blackness. Are my eyes deceiving me? you wonder. You witnessed this a few times that night, in unpredicatable intervals. It was as if the phenomenon was teasing you.
About a decade ago, the road was paved and traffic began to increase as more people moved to the area surrounding. Three schools popped up near the road, and traffic increased greatly. "House Farms" took the place of pine farms toward the eastern end of the road, where thousands of yankees were planted. The ghost died; yet another piece of local history and culture lost to overdevelopement.
If I were to stand in front of all the 2700 students who attend my extremely overcrowded school and ask who knew what Ghost Light Road was, MAYBE 5 or 10 would raise their hand... A relatively small symptom of a deadly disease spreading through the lifeblood of Florida.
The road's original name was Bombing Range Road, as it provided access to an airfield and bombing range operated by the U.S. Navy in the years before and during World War II. A few years back (before I came into the world) the road was officially renamed Greenbriar Road for "real estate reasons". Regardless of what the road was officially named, we locals had only one name for it: Ghost Light Road.
Ghost Light Road was a perfectly straight, limestone and sand road that cut through the pine plantations and cypress swamps of my beloved home. If you visited this area back in those wonderful years, and happened to venture onto Greenbriar Road at night, you were met with a very interesting phenomenon.
Driving down the bumpy dirt road, your first thoughts would be "where the heck does this road go?" It would have been the darkest of night, with the light of millions of stars and the moon filtering through the tall pine trees being the only relief from the pitch black. The fresh scent of pine would fill your nose, and the cool air of the swamp would provide relief from the otherwise muggy weather. As you bumped along, you would begin to notice a light - a single light, as if a motorcycle's headlight - approaching you. The light would approach for minutes on end, and as you wonder what such a light could be, it disappears into the blackness. Are my eyes deceiving me? you wonder. You witnessed this a few times that night, in unpredicatable intervals. It was as if the phenomenon was teasing you.
About a decade ago, the road was paved and traffic began to increase as more people moved to the area surrounding. Three schools popped up near the road, and traffic increased greatly. "House Farms" took the place of pine farms toward the eastern end of the road, where thousands of yankees were planted. The ghost died; yet another piece of local history and culture lost to overdevelopement.
If I were to stand in front of all the 2700 students who attend my extremely overcrowded school and ask who knew what Ghost Light Road was, MAYBE 5 or 10 would raise their hand... A relatively small symptom of a deadly disease spreading through the lifeblood of Florida.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
"Florida Attacks"
So, I had something happen yet again today, something that has been plaguing me increasingly over the past two years or so. This something is a thing that saps my strength and completely prevents me from concentrating on anything else.
...Yes, it's love...
A spurt of loving pessimism (ha ha) that I have come to know as a "Florida Attack."
Sometimes these Florida Attacks can be good (such as when I strike inspiration in the swamp), and sometimes they can be bad...
Today's was bad, and, as usual, it happened at a bad time.
I stepped out of my 5th period class into a choking haze of smoke blown down from the land of Georgia (God help them.) As I began my daily walk outside toward my 6th/7th period block class, it hit me like a sack of p'taters....
I can't really descibe the feeling. Just thoughts like "Once it's gone, there's no turning back," and the likes of that.
I walked into my freezing cold chemistry classroom and immediately went back outside to lengthen my walk and to think.
...What I thought...I can't put on paper (er, keyboard?) right now, so you will have to wait on that...
However, it did succeed in putting me in a bad mood all throughout 6th/7th block, to the dismay of the people sitting around me (sorry, guys.)
When I walked outside to the parking lot after my Chemistry class period was over, I was beginning to cool off. I was just glad the school day was over and I could go home and have some time alone. Then I heard the THUD and BEEP, BEEP, BEEP sounds of construction (the developer's word for "destruction") behind my school, and this set me off on another loop. My school is currently situated in the middle of the woods, in the remnants of this once rural area of my county. That will not be true in a few years, as the expansive pine plantation surrounding my school are slated to be clear-cut for yet another development.
As these thoughts ran through my mind, I spotted a raccoon wandering in the palmettos just outside of the parking lot, and I thought Where is HE supposed to go? Where's a cracker supposed to go? I suppose we're both slated for extinction, just as that development is slated to destroy.
Just another day in the life of a Floridaphile.
Wow, this post was so horribly written, it ought to not even be posted. However, I must put it out there. This is the way we humans think sometimes.
...Yes, it's love...
A spurt of loving pessimism (ha ha) that I have come to know as a "Florida Attack."
Sometimes these Florida Attacks can be good (such as when I strike inspiration in the swamp), and sometimes they can be bad...
Today's was bad, and, as usual, it happened at a bad time.
I stepped out of my 5th period class into a choking haze of smoke blown down from the land of Georgia (God help them.) As I began my daily walk outside toward my 6th/7th period block class, it hit me like a sack of p'taters....
I can't really descibe the feeling. Just thoughts like "Once it's gone, there's no turning back," and the likes of that.
I walked into my freezing cold chemistry classroom and immediately went back outside to lengthen my walk and to think.
...What I thought...I can't put on paper (er, keyboard?) right now, so you will have to wait on that...
However, it did succeed in putting me in a bad mood all throughout 6th/7th block, to the dismay of the people sitting around me (sorry, guys.)
When I walked outside to the parking lot after my Chemistry class period was over, I was beginning to cool off. I was just glad the school day was over and I could go home and have some time alone. Then I heard the THUD and BEEP, BEEP, BEEP sounds of construction (the developer's word for "destruction") behind my school, and this set me off on another loop. My school is currently situated in the middle of the woods, in the remnants of this once rural area of my county. That will not be true in a few years, as the expansive pine plantation surrounding my school are slated to be clear-cut for yet another development.
As these thoughts ran through my mind, I spotted a raccoon wandering in the palmettos just outside of the parking lot, and I thought Where is HE supposed to go? Where's a cracker supposed to go? I suppose we're both slated for extinction, just as that development is slated to destroy.
Just another day in the life of a Floridaphile.
Wow, this post was so horribly written, it ought to not even be posted. However, I must put it out there. This is the way we humans think sometimes.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Wow...Amazing parallels...
The Old Elm Tree by the River
By: Wendell Berry
Shrugging in the flight of its leaves,
it is dying. Death is slowly
standing up in its trunk and branches
like a camouflaged hunter. In the night
I am wakened by one of its branches
crashing down, heavy as a wall, and then
lie sleepless, the world changed.
That is a life I know the country by.
Mine is a life I know the country by.
Willing to live and die, we stand here,
timely and at home, neighborly as two men.
Our place is changing in us as we stand,
and we hold up the weight that will bring us down.
In us the land enacts its history.
When we stood it was beneath us, and was
the strength by which we held to it
and stood, the daylight over it
a mighty blessing we cannot bear for long.
By: Wendell Berry
Shrugging in the flight of its leaves,
it is dying. Death is slowly
standing up in its trunk and branches
like a camouflaged hunter. In the night
I am wakened by one of its branches
crashing down, heavy as a wall, and then
lie sleepless, the world changed.
That is a life I know the country by.
Mine is a life I know the country by.
Willing to live and die, we stand here,
timely and at home, neighborly as two men.
Our place is changing in us as we stand,
and we hold up the weight that will bring us down.
In us the land enacts its history.
When we stood it was beneath us, and was
the strength by which we held to it
and stood, the daylight over it
a mighty blessing we cannot bear for long.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
