Growing up in the North Country

     Saying that you grew up in the North Country is like saying you Grew up in a small town. I have grown up in both: the North Country and the small town. If there is one fact that has shaped me into the person I am today is the dreaded grape vine. No, no not the actual grape vine but the verbal web that small towns weave so that everyone knows what you have been up to before you can blink your eyes. Thanks to minor situations that have put me in the gossip grape vine, as I like to call it, I have learned the hard way that if you don’t want anyone to know about the situation then you don’t put yourself in the situation.

     One day I wasn’t so careful. I was pulling out of Profile road when I was almost side swiped by a black Sedan. Thankfully we both made it out unscaved and by the time I made it home my mother had heard of what happened except she had heard a different story. She had heard from this person, who heard it from this person… ect., who was driving behind me that I was involved in a hit and run and left the person I hit bleeding. It took about ten seconds for me to explain what happened but the damage was done people had thought that they had heard what had happened but obviously the situation had been skewered and had given me a bad reputation.