“Thank God for the county lines that welcome you back in when you were dying to get out.”
The holiday season has been reigning in full glory and at this time every year, I can’t help but feel a burning nostalgia for simpler times and small town life. My family spent many years bouncing from town to town and me from school to school. But when I was 10 years old, we finally settled down in a little town by the name of Dublin. And that’s the place I call home.
On the outskirts of the East Bay, Dublin stood between rolling hills and farm land with great potential to become a booming suburbia. When we arrived, the town was small – not quite as small as say Mack, Colorado – but with 5,000-some-odd people it was what some would consider nowhere, USA.
As the community grew, my peers and I fell under polar (musical +cultural) influences: Yay Area hip hop courtesy of the Hyphy movement/our proximity to Oakland and country, the root of Dublin. Although caught somewhere in between, you could say I leaned towards the latter.
These days I long for a simpler time. A time when we would drive way too fast down some random back road. When the movie theaters was the only place we could go. When Friday night lights was a way of life. And when nights were spent sitting high on the hills, talking about the future. We were unstoppable, unbreakable, on top of the world.
Since I left, Dublin’s grown tenfold and nothing is the same. But it’s the memories, the memories of my childhood and the memories of childhoods of others alike, that give me back my hometown. And the lyrics in these songs are where the memories live on: