The Hike to Hicksville

Some religious adherents pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Other devout followers travel to Mecca. I'm going to Hicksville.

This Thursday, my wife and I casting off all worldly distractions, flagellating all sensual desire, denying the appetites of the "flesh" and following the promptings of of the "spirit." We are going to Hicksville. It will take us 6-7 hours-- possibly more-- contingent on how intense the avoidance and procrastination become. It is my experience that a day in Hicksville is like a month anyplace else. Only the best for my wife; we will stay in Hicksville's finest, and only, hotel.

This is a fact; I was born and raised in Hicksville, having spent the first seventeen years of my life there. Correction--the first seventeen years of my existence there. Our team was the Hicksville Aces. Our opponents pronounced it with a short "a." Our school colors were red and white, and one of our cheers was, "Red and White! Aces fight!" Yell that with short "a" school spirit. It's not easy being from Hicksville.

I attended frequently enough to be a graduate of Hicksville High. I can only estimate the deep and lasting impression made upon potential colleges and employers when their eyes came across that bit of biographical info.

Don't get me wrong. There is stimulation in Hicksville. The glow of the neon light draws me, beckons to me. (I'm told Charlie's Tavern got a new sign.) Can't wait to see it. Family also draws me. My mother and brother still reside there. Like Martin Luther King, they've "been to the mountaintop." And decided to stay there. I will go to visit them, and catch up with some of my cousins, two of whom still dwell on the peak, as well.

Lest you dismiss Hicksville as a mere speed-bump en route to where you really want to go, you need to be aware of the town's literary ambiance. Hicksville has its own newspaper. No, it's not called The Hicksville Swill. Nor Your Fill of Hicksville. It's the weekly and elegant Hicksville News Tribune. With headlines such as "Gertrude Bumfardner takes Blue Ribbon at 4-H " or "Horses Happy: New Hitching-post Installed at Bank."

I go back to Hicksville because those 17 years not didn't only serve to deform me in some small capacity but in a major way informed and formed me. I will re-visit some old childhood haunts as well as havens. My brother and I will likely go out into the country (away from the neon light) and go hunting, whether in-season or not. Are starlings ever out-of-season? I will go to the cemetery and visit my dad's graveside. I'll touch the dirt in an effort to feel connected with him, and though he's been gone 19 years, I will talk to him and miss him dearly.

Though I make fun of Hicksville there is something about the simplicity and pace that I appreciate. It's home, though I will never live there again. It's peaceful, but I'm too restless to stay long. It is full of memories--some dark, many delightful. It is "old school" and often maligned by self-proclaimed sophisticates such as myself. "New school" might feel cool but I wonder if it's not full of crap. Hicksville--home of the Aces and still haven for the asses that would judge it.

On Sunday, we will trek down off the mountain, descend to the plain, and drive back to Illinois. While gone, I will likely be enfolded in a euphoric transcendental trance due to the cosmic vibes in Hicksville. Consequently, don't expect a blog for about a week.

I hope to provide an account of my visit upon my return. If I return. . .