The Middle of Nowhere

I told one of my friends at work where I was going for a family reunion later this year. He wanted to know what the "middle of nowhere" looked like so he pulled up this satellite view. This particular "middle of nowhere" is one of my very favorite places to visit.

My grandpa and all his children were born and raised here. It was settled in the early 1900s by two sets of my great-grandparents and other Mormons that had left the Mormon Colonies in Mexico to get away from the Mexican Revolution.

Everytime we go down there, I get to see so many aunts and uncles and cousins and we have so much fun riding horses, playing in the old school, dutch oven cooking, hayrides, playing slip & slide baseball in the cow field, picnics, cutting down Christmas trees in the hills... For a city girl, it sure is fun to visit the country sometimes.

I wrote a poem about Virden in the 8th grade that won an award in my school district (I think it was 1st place for my grade level in the district). Here it is:

Virden, New Mexico

A small town full of family,

Full of dust and rusty pick-ups.

Full of ancient houses built by a pioneer's hand

And full of priceless memories.

Memories of my grandfather's house

Where the boards in the hall go cr-r-eak,

c-r-reak.

With the white picket fence around the play area

And the swings that have swung for many a year.

Memories of roaming the open desert hills

And finding "forts" owned only by us.

Going to the cemetery where lay Baby Elizabet

and Grandma Jones.

Going to the old school to explore

And most of all talking forever to the

unquenchable

Mrs. Stamper.

Yes, Virden is a small town full of family,

Full of dust and rusty pick-ups,

Full of ugly old sheds.

It is my heritage.