I love when people post things online, such as, “you know you are from… because”. So, I’ve decided to dedicate this blog post to my hometown of Demopolis and to discuss how you know you are from there.

Starting with the title. As a kid, I walked around our grocery store with no socks or shoes, in other words, my bare feet. The bottoms of my feet would become black from the floor and thus became the term “Food Fair feet.” While walking around the store with my feet out in front of God and everyone, we’d stop by the bakery isle and I’d look at the live lobsters in the tank. Who in Demopolis was buying lobster from Food Fair? Please come forward and introduce your bougie self. I also remember dreading buying feminine products and the guy working as the cashier (the only open line) went to school with you. How to play it cool?

It wouldn’t be a Friday or Saturday night in high school without stopping by Parr’s on Highway 80 to see who was there hanging out. It was a rite of passage once you starting riding around listening to parental advisory CD’s and burned CD’s which were a level above parental advisory. Tell me, now, what seemingly innocent high school girl didn’t have inappropriate music in her car and the girl in question (okay, maybe me) could sing or (clearing my throat) rap every word.

Let’s talk football now, Friday night lights. Since I was a kid, I remember going to the games. My sister is older and cheered so we went to every game (home and away). The old Memorial stadium was legendary. I remember hanging underneath the bleachers with friends with my parents seemingly having no concerns or way to track to me. The victory line was a big deal as the players planned to run through the decorated paper banner with some saying decided by the cheerleaders. The announcer would come on, “Fans, it’s time for the victory line” and every small kid in every corner of Memorial stadium would run to get in line. The tunnel was also a cool feature that led from the middle school (which was once the high school) to the field. I can still do the dance line routine to “Eye of the Tiger” although I never was on the dance line. As I got into high school, I was more into watching the guys on the sideline than the game itself (guilty). After the games meant cleaning up the Vanity Fair parking lot if you were in Key Club and then on Saturday morning, the stadium. We miss you Coach Sprinkle! 2003 was going to be our year. We were close to the championship, so close.

On to food in Demopolis- I sure do miss Robert’s. In my mind, they had the best hamburger steak, chicken fingers, french fries and Texas toast. Red Barn was reserved for special occasions- first dates and prom dinners. I miss Red Barn’s old salad bar. I didn’t know what a Mexican restaurant was until I was in 7th grade. The original La Fiesta was a place for group outings as teenagers. Oh, the bowls and bowls of cheese dip devoured at that place. Mr. G’s when it was located down by the river was special with it’s arcade games and CD jukebox. I remember vividly playing Ben Folds Five with my change. “She’s a brick and I’m drowning slowly.”

My neighborhood- where life truly was lived for my formative years. I rode my bike and roller bladed around the block more times that I can count. I rode my bike downtown, to the river and back. I jumped on neighbors’ trampolines and confronted a bully sometimes. I swooned over the boy next door and I stayed up giggling with my neighbor as we looked at her plastic stars, listening to the Wallflowers,”But me and Cinderella, we can put it together. We can drive it home with one headlight.” I played football at the old school next door and learned to play softball in the same lot. My dog and I scoured the neighborhood and had adventures. The neighbors had lived in our neighborhood much longer than I had been alive. They were the original Demopolites, from Mr. Pritchard, Mr. Cobb, Mr. Bobby Coker, and Mr. Hard, the TV repair man. They had been the foundation of our very town and now they” watched as an awkward girl skated by in her Care Bear skates, a new generation bloomed. I would have loved to know their thoughts. “There’s that Rogers’ girl.” “Who?” the other would answer. “You know the school teacher Mr. Rogers?” “His daughter.” “Oh.” “She’s pretty determined to skate around this block 100 times isn’t she?” “Those strawberries on her knees can answer that.”

I am thankful for my “Wonder Years” to be in Demopolis. I refer to my middle school time as the “wonder years” because like Kevin Arnold it was full of awkward moments, racing thoughts, and general confusion in who I was or was becoming. The old Marengo Theatre with its red seats was the place we hung out in those years. Sweaty palms and nervous glances were an instrumental part of that experience. The parties held in our parents’ garages were also a part of growing up. Did every town have that? The parents hung out inside and we danced as the CD player played. Boy Girl parties, Dave Matthews and Crash, and hormones mixed with Sunflower, Sun-ripened Raspberry, or Tommy Hilfiger (for some 14 year old guy, lol).

Lastly, the term I think most would associate with Demopolis as a place to grow up- safe. Demopolis was for the most part in my memory safe. Parents of friends had as much authority to discipline you as your own parents. I remember fearing for my life as I had to tell Mr. Barley I broke his window playing wall ball against the front of his home. His tone was so kind and never raised his voice. I felt something awful in the pit of my stomach when I approached him. We learned to take responsibility and own our mistakes.

There are so many memories about Demopolis that I could write a book (and maybe I will). The Westside baseball field also comes to mind as we walked around and around the fields to run into the boy on a bike who lived across the street in the Mauvilla Trailer Park. He was older and looked like Benny the Jet Rodrigues from the Sandlot. Oh and the confidence we had when named to the Dixie Youth All-Star team. We could sling some softballs and played with all our heart.

Demopolis is a special place and is truly the City of the People. I thank God I was raised in ol’ Marengo county. What’s your favorite memories of growing up in your home town?