Well, it had been a few years since I had ventured down that way and though Christmas really isn't my thing and hasn't been for quite some time, I do enjoy looking at lights, as does my little one... so I drug Kevo and the kiddo out for a drive to see the
Meadow Lights...
First, a simple geography lesson... The town of Meadow is located exactly one hour east of civilization in the middle of
Johnston County. (Johnston County, for those unaware, is pretty much its own "scary little world" as the lawyer so eloquently put in following his last legal venture in the JC courts. The big claim to fame down there being
Smithfield, the home and resting spot of
Ava Gardner... I'll save the redneck raiding of her grave for another time.) ...So Meadow: it has a school, a fire station, two (count them) gas stations, and a little "do-drop-in" home-cooking kitchen where locals mingle and dine on good ole southern cuisine like pork BBQ and fried chicken with collard greens and such. Surrounding this metropolis are lots of fields, dirt roads, trailers, and what's left of the wilderness in them parts. A haven for bored redneck teens with drivers licenses and 4-wheel drives... I should know, I grew up near there.
The "tradition" of the Meadow lights began some decades ago as presumably a holiday rivalry between two neighbors trying to out-do one another. As years went on, other neighbors joined in and as tour buses began to pour in, these engineering country folk found a way to cash in on their electrical exhibit by opening a candy store and charging money for rides in tractors disguised as trains.
We exit from the highway into complete darkness. A couple of miles up the road, I instruct everyone to look to their left and do not blink, least we miss the township. Miles later, we're stuck in the traffic train of Meadow light-goers... There is a very large, dark swampy pond on the right just beyond a shabby wooden shack which very well may have once upon a time been a one room country store? It's adorned with a padlock and wears a sign which reads:
"Fishing $3.00 a head
Bank $1.00
Leave money in box under porch"
And me without my camera.
One summer night nearly 20 years ago, I went trout line fishing in that pond with a couple of "good ole boys" I used to know... Yes siree, those were the days... paddling around in the pitch black, reeling in fish at 3 in the morning drunk off of moonshine. (What the hell was I thinking? ...nevermind, scratch that.)
Slowly, slowly, creeping down the road, winding, idling and finally out of the calm cold nothingness lights come into view - a big string of glowing letters announcing "Meadow Lights" (to clarify, like there was any other reason anyone would be that far out in the middle of nowhere)... then there was Santa, some reindeer, and a big bright sign which read,
"Happy Birthday Jesus." We both groan.
Of course there was more, with apparently little rhyme or reason... blinking poinsettias, more santas, more reindeer, illuminated water fountains, snowmen, countless trees, an explosion of lighted wreaths and garlands and then lo and behold -- the Bethlehem Inn. No kidding... A collapsing tobacco barn with fenced in fake cows and manger with a painted "Bethlehem Inn" sign over the door... and a second sign which read, "No Trespassing; Keep Out." [*snicker*]
Oh but there was more... on the rickety front porch of a vacant farm house, there was the Last Supper. No shit. A posse of bearded mannequins dressed in bed sheets posed at a picnic table staring into the night during this "holy season" as the melody of turkey shoot gun shots rang through the air... (and I had to wonder why Mary Magdalene was dressed in drag?) --Oh my... we nearly peed our pants laughing.
But just when I thought I had seen it all... there hung Jesus on a cross between two thieves beside an antique gas pump -- but wait, there was Jesus again beside himself carrying his cross. --All misinformation aside, how confusing this scenery must be for young minds?
Jesus was also preaching at a podium nearby and standing by a makeshift cave, presumably after he'd risen from the dead? --I'm thinking that perhaps an Easter bunny and a may pole may have been a nice touch here.
And again, me without my camera.
Finally we arrived at the candy store where Santa Claus waited in a back room for photos with kids for cash. The parking lot overflowed with mini vans and pick up trucks with dog boxes. Lines and lines of people waited for the tractor tour of miscellaneous lights decorating a vacant field. --All I wanted was some peanut brittle and for my daughter to be too tired to notice the ride.
Twenty seconds into the candy store and I was ready to leave -- as in jump in the car and speed quickly away from this inbred nightmare before I ran into someone I went to school with twenty years ago (I was one of the few who dared to LEAVE the county after high school, let alone, own a passport.)
Well, I got my peanut brittle... only because Kevo loves me enough to stand in line amongst the droves of bible-thumping yee-haws dressed in their finest tacky Christmas ensembles and hunting attire herding their bratty brood through the cavity wonderland. I, on the other hand, took my child outside to wait on the porch before I broke out into hives, only to be forced to easedrop on a dialogue referencing "
Tater Tech" by a woman whose 'twang' was more torturous than nails on a chalk board.
Right about the time the old "
Calgon" commercial popped into my head, my knight with shining plastic bag appeared... we quickly saddled up our reindeer and bid the Jesuses farewell.
Getting the hell out of dodge, I turn to Kevo facetiously, "Somewhat traumatic though none-the-less, I feel I am a better person for the experience."
"I can't believe you didn't bring your camera." he says.
"Well, we can come back..." I tell him.
"Uhm, No."...And to all a good night!
"The holiest of all holidays are those Kept by ourselves in silence and apart; The secret anniversaries of the heart."
--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
One of the most irritating aspects of daily life for me is receiving junk mail. I hate it.
