The Story of Us: New Horizons

Chris: Currently nomading it up in Massachusetts, a plains dweller like me--living most of my life in Colorado--finds listening to the locals is like living in a whole new world (and not one of magic carpet rides in Agrabah). Being here greased those stubborn cogs of my brainmeats, and I realized how much I live in my own little bubble and how little it has grown over the years.

The first time my horizon expanded, my family had gone to the Texas’ panhandle, Borger, to visit my aunt, uncle, and cousins. Who knows how many times I’d gone before I started to notice my surroundings, but one summer, climbing out of the car and into the dry heat and dust and smelling the wonderful stench that is unique to oil processing plants--something like mold and cowcrap and grease--it hit me: the differences.

My Texan family all spoke with accents, saying “Y’all,” calling every kind of soda a “Coke,” and forcing me to ask questions like, “What the hell is a coney?” (It’s a chili dog.) Instead of mountains in the west, I saw dust, rocks, barren bushes, and dilapidated barns. There was no Blockbuster, but a Hastings, which I loved more than my own video stores, as they had books and music, too. Dairy Queens were almost non-existent, but if you wanted a Dairy King, you need only find a town of half a dozen houses. There’d be no gas station, but a Dairy King was ready and waiting to serve. (As far as I recall, we never actually went to one, either.)

As kids, we grow up thinking that what we see on a daily basis is all the world is, the things we know. We hear about other places and times and cultures and sights, but they aren’t real. They’re words on a page, a picture online, a scene in a movie. It’s not until you’re there, in someplace new, out of your element and--often--a bit scared that you realize there is more out there. More than you ever thought, imagined, or fully understood.

So visit those hometown places that you “keep meaning to go see.” Experience the next town over, the next county over, the next state, country, however far you can go to expand your horizon. Go out. Live.

Holly: Growing up, there wasn't much I found about Tennessee that I liked. Especially East Tennessee. Nashville had country music, Memphis had Elvis, and in my opinion us easterners had squat.

I was always different from the kids around me, which didn't help matters at all. I had an imagination that ran a bit too wild for most people's liking, and I was always wondering about things that kindly southern folk weren't supposed to question. There had to be a place I fit in, and Tennessee certainly wasn't it.

So, when my sister moved to Atlanta, Georgia, I saw my ticket out of small town life. Money doesn't go as far in the big city, so I moved into a crummy apartment and got myself a job at a major corporation. Life was different, that's for sure. Instead of taking long walks in the woods, I was sitting in an hour of traffic one way getting to work. And instead of watching deer outside my window, I was calling my sister at 2am to come kill the giant cockroach that scampered across my living room floor. I soon learned that I wanted to be where the action was, but not that kind of action.

Soon, I was back in Tennessee. During this homecoming, I took the time to realize what I wanted out of life. I did want to be where the action was...the movies, art, and music I loved so much. But I didn't want to be smothered by the city I lived in, feeling like I was lost in it.

Then I learned that a place can't deliver what you want until you seek it out for yourself. It's not going to just throw itself at you. So, that's what I spent the rest of my time doing: seeking out the life I wanted in the place I already lived. And I learned that downtown Knoxville is pretty amazing. There's a great folk/bluegrass music scene, rampant alley art, and tons of festivals and cool places to eat/hang.

And when I moved to back to Georgia...Savannah this time...I didn't come as a girl desperate to leave something behind. I came as a girl who had so much to take with her. All thanks to East Tennessee.

The Story of Us: Cross-dressing Teens

Chris: 

One of my favorite memories from high school is dress shopping. Yes, me, a guy, dress shopping.

Every year, our school held a Senior Class Play that acted as a fundraiser for the class trip. Some would act/manage/light/etc. the play and others served as waiters and waitresses for the pre-show dinner. My senior year, our play was a comedy about a garden club organizing and producing a play. The characters needed to raise funds for their various projects, so they decided to host a night of theatre and pageantry. Problem is, they didn’t know the first thing about play production or beauty pageants. So, of course, the whole thing is a debacle--albeit an amusing one.

The photo is from the beauty pageant portion. Yes, there were plenty of females in my class and even in the play, but we all thought it would be funnier if I wore a dress, claiming the original, scheduled wearer was nowhere to be found. It was a riot, gaining some of the biggest laughs--along with catcalls and whistles--of our two performances.

To find this pink polyester beaut, we’d hit up a local thrift store. When we walked through the door, the cast, the director and his wife, and I saw this dress hanging behind the counter. We knew it was the one, as long as it fit. The clerk handed it over without question, but when she saw that I was the one going into the changing room, she howled with laughter. Even more, when I came out wearing it, another customer jabbered away, gushing about how much she loved the dress, how good it looked on me, and that if we weren’t going to buy it, she would.

Of course, it was all in the name of humor. But had I not been comfortable enough to cross-dress in front of the whole school and faculty and parents, I would’ve missed out on that woman’s reaction. What helped me along were the words of my good friend, Cale P., who’d said, “There’s no shame in humor.” And while this is very true--you have to be able to laugh at yourself before you can make the world laugh with you--it extends beyond humor. You shouldn’t be ashamed of being you. We each deserve to be comfortable in our skins, and the first step is simply accepting yourself for yourself--regardless of others’ reactions. And who knows, in the process of being yourself, you just might create some favorite memories along the way...

Holly: Your own, personal bully. Most people have one in high school, and I was no exception. 

This girl was relentless, and she took every chance she got (especially when others were around) to make fun of just about everything I did. So when this jock-of-a-chick joined drama, I knew it could only be for one reason: to ruin my life. And when the drama teacher allowed my bully to help her choose rolls for plays because she'd gotten a sports injury and couldn't perform, I knew things were only going to get worse. 

First, she cast me as the goose in a retelling of "Jack and the Beanstalk." And of course, as this goose, I had to lay a real egg on stage by dropping it behind me, letting it break, and yelling "Oh, my little Herbie!" Luckily, I've always been fairly secure with myself (barring a few exceptions), and I decided as a goose to make my rolls, however embarrassing, the best they could be. And people loved it. We traveled to area elementary schools for "Jack and the Beanstalk," and I made all of the little kids scream with glee when I laid that egg. They even asked for my autograph. Take that, bully! 

Well, the next play was "Hansel and Gretel," and it was clear that my bully wasn't done throwing the punches. I'd had short hair ever since my mom gave me a bowl cut in the third grade. I wanted longer hair, but I could never seem to hold out during the "awkward length" stage, so it stayed short for a long time. My bully knew this was a weak spot for me, because we'd both been on a soccer team together from age eight, all the way into high school. She knew the other teams would call me a boy to try to psyche me out, and I guess she wanted to get me good. So, even though there were guys in drama, I got cast as Hansel...yeah, you heard it right. Not Gretel. Hansel. But I did the same with Hansel as I did with the goose. I held my head up high and gave it my all. This play was performed in front of the school, and the entire student body gave me a standing ovation when it was my time to bow at the end. It goes to show that being comfortable with yourself, even in the face of a bully, is worth it every time.