A beautiful town, the conservationists say – they say the forests here host the most biodiversity east of the Mississippi. I know this to be true. I spent time with the orange newts, climbed the tall trees, made potions from water drawn from forgotten stone wells. Dug deep once, now filled with decades of mud and leaves. Each stone laid by hand.

The mica mine where we would go to see ourselves reflected in the shiny bright eyes still embedded in Earth, sensing how the windows to our souls were made of thick panes of flaking, ethereal stone.

Hidden Lake, Edgerly Falls, The Ledges, Blue Job Mountain. These are breathtaking places. You think the kids in this town would have more than enough to keep their hands dirty and minds clean. Yet sixth grade girls give their high school boyfriends their virginity between gymnastics and horseback riding in exchange for undefeatable status. And perhaps, a longing to know love.

The first time I smoked pot my younger brother rolled me a spliff from weed he bought from his friends two grades older than me. Once, black out drunk, fifteen, my friend groped me until I snored and later they told me I single-handedly pushed my ride’s car out of the snowbank. Small town, varsity volleyball strength. After my friend fucked my two best friends he tried for me. I laughed in his face. We played Mario Kart instead.

A beautiful lake town, where Officer Randy was a royal dick, ending the futures of every young hellion. The only reason he didn’t ruin mine when he caught me going 80 on back roads was because he knew I would spit in his weekly steak and cheese. He liked watching me make it too much to trade his leering gaze for never being sure about his cheesy meat again.

We camped under the stars and ate mushrooms before school. Our cheap beater cars pirouetted in elegant donuts on the frozen lake. Some of us found our way. Some of us died or died inside watching each other die from speeding or overdoses. Those who remain still carry the specter of Live Free, or Die.

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