There will be a time that the city of Atlanta stretches all the way from Blue Ridge to the Okefenokee. I’d give it a few years. All the farms will be gone. All the farmhouses demolished, replaced with stucco McMansions built over the course of a week. There will be nothing left to identify where you are in relation to one end or the other. It will all be Atlanta. Except for one small pocket in the Atlanta suburbs of Lilburn, a few blocks away from my house.
The place that I am talking about is a very small horse farm that has somehow managed to not be swallowed up by the large housing developments that are so prolific in this area. The land around was bought up and sold off long, long ago. From the looks of the horse farm, it has been there since folks started clearing trees to make fields for agriculture way back when. It is about four acres. There is a barn with a tin roof and a couple of sheds full of unimaginable treasure.
At any given time one can walk over to the property which is bordered by a fairly busy road and observe about a dozen or so horses munching on grass and lazily walking around. At the entrance to this farm is a dirty old house with a large oak tree in front. The house doesn’t look abandoned but it doesn’t look like anyone lives there either...but there are always dozens of cars there. They come and go, but I can’t imagine they are from people that work there and nobody ever rides the horses.
No. These cars belong to members of an exclusive club of gentleman that I quietly refer to as ‘The Cowboys’, even though they dress more like any other casual, middle-aged man, perhaps slightly rougher around the edges. No cowboy boots or bolo ties to speak of. Just ripped jeans and white tennis shoes. Rugged baseball caps. Flannel.
There is a large shop on the property, close to the road where the cowboys sometimes like to congregate. They work on old cars and tractors and talk amongst themselves. Sometimes they stand around the corral and drink beer and watch the horses but never ride them. Now and again they can be observed standing around the barn, always quietly speaking, but never, ever noticing any passer-by. Ever. No eye contact. Nothing.
As you grow older you learn that it is not so easy to make friends as it once was. Sure you got your work buddies but you talk to them all day. You want someone close. Someone, you can hang out and complain about your dismal future with. If you don’t belong to a church or some other group the only option you have is your neighbors, and in the suburbs of Atlanta, you’re lucky if you ever see them, much less talk to them.
Every day I walk past this horse farm and this exclusive club. Watching. Waiting. I look at all the manly stuff they are doing. Standing around, looking at car parts, discussing what’s wrong with them. I don’t know anything about car parts but I don’t know anything about sports either and that’s never stopped me from faking it. Honestly, I don’t know that much about anything except maybe art and kudzu.
Thing is. I will never make it into this exclusive club because I can never get these guys to make eye contact with me for enough time to give them that initial head nod. That nod that sends out a telekinetic signal and response that lets people know if they can be friends. All I need is the nod. I would be in. And I’ve tried. I’ve walked my son over to the horses when they’re close to the cowboys thinking they’d see a kindred soul in my fatherliness. No. They are not concerned with those kinds of things. I’ve even considered just popping over and asking them a random question about my broken lawnmower...but you can’t do that. That’s not a way into this club. I used to think if I bought a horse and took it over that would work, but anymore, I doubt it.
This club and this land will be there until Atlanta reaches north to Canada, and west to Hawaii. There will not be one horse farm or field left in this country, except for on the outskirts of the Atlanta suburbs in Lilburn, GA. It won’t be because people didn’t try to turn this land into an upscale retirement community, or a strip mall, or an apartment complex. It will be because they were never even able to attempt to try. They weren’t part of the club, and they never will be.