I live in a town that is quite small. At just under five and half square miles, one can sneeze and miss it altogether. It’s nestled close to some more famous towns. Perhaps you’ve heard of the Battles of Lexington and Concord? The “Shot Heard Round the World” might actually have been heard from my town. If you’re not a historian or slept through the umpteenth lesson on U.S. history that you basically already knew anyways, then you will have no idea what I’m talking about. That’s alright. My town was not even made into a town until after the end of the Civil War.
What makes my town so special? Why should I write about such a small, insignificant snip of land? Well, for one, it is my home, after all, and, as such, I have done some exploring. There is a wildlife refuge located partly inside my town that houses as many as 50 bunkers. These are WWII massive ammunition shelters that appear at first sight to be oddly shaped hills. When walking through the refuge, it’s easy to miss the bunkers. Trees grow right on top of them. Once, my friend and neighbor, a boy scout with knowledge of which bunkers are sometimes open, took my family inside one of these bunkers. They are completely empty, cavernous and echo creepily. So very cool.
Behind the high school, middle school and elementary school that I never went to are trails connecting them and leading to more trails to farther away places. There is one trail that goes away from the high school towards an abandoned parking lot where office buildings used to stand. For now, at least, there remains one building standing, eerily on the side of the massive lot. Sand and rubble piles where buildings used to stand are all that remain of the rest. Wildflowers are sprouting up and taking over the ruined pavement. A helicopter landing zone is faintly visible. Observing the deserted landscape with my friend last year, I remarked that it looked like a nuclear waste zone. How long this site remains to be left untouched is unknown, as the town people are fighting the proposed development of apartment buildings and stores. So it goes on, a stark reminder of how quickly things decay.
Upon driving through the downtown area, the mill, still more or less in use by many different companies, dominates the scenery. It's composed of several large, brick buildings that once upon a time were used for the production of first carpets and then wool. Its striking clock tower is very likely the oldest continuously hand-wound clock tower still in use in the country at over 100 years old.
My town is small, but it is not boring if one knows where to look.
