Voice of the People A Town Called Somewhere

There used to be a little town called “Somewhere.” It was quite the place to be. At the base of the mountains with an arrowhead etched majestically resting on its side overlooking world renown groves of orange was this little part of an inland empire. It wasn’t a “wanna be”….it was a “we are” kind of town where everybody worked hard and was respectful and tried to be the best somebody they could be. They were so proud to be somebody from Somewhere. Somewhere used to be something with lots of somebodies. Lots of brothers got their start in Somewhere like McDonald’s and Stater’s and Harris’ From an Academy Award winning costume designer to a future President operating an elevator, oh…just so many interesting somebodies. Then, as time passed, Somewhere lost her sparkle. The somebodies from Somewhere lost their way. She became better know by her nickname “Nowhere.” Through the years, and yet with calculated precision the little town that used to be Somewhere was now know as Nowhere. It seemed only logical. There was of course the announcement of a major military base that had protected its country for so many years destroyed to make way for….great fanfare….the international airport… to Nowhere! And of course an obligatory busline…to Nowhere. It was a little town rising…like a Phoenix….to Nowhere. Yes, after awhile the name “Nowhere” just seemed to fit. Of course, there was a flurry of activity… experts who claimed to be somebodies from elsewhere were brought in by Nowhere’s big muckities to save Nowhere time and time again. Developers and politicians lined their pockets with anything they could squeeze out of Nowhere. Even the retiring Mayor, who claimed to have the best interests of Nowhere at heart, was secretly building his million dollar home far, far away from Nowhere. Even the panhandlers….from just about everywhere…showed up to take their entitled slice of Nowhere. So much activity until finally one day, everybody from Nowhere knew. They were nobodies from Nowhere and nothing would ever change that! Could anything change their minds? What to do, what to do. There were only a few wise old somebodies left in Nowhere. They knew it was up to them to remind the townfolk of the somebodies who had come before them and had expected great things of their town and townfolk. Who would tell the misnamed nobodies if not for the wise old somebodies? As the years go by, stories change, memories fade and records are lost. Electronic records delete …or fires destroy… or things just… disappear. But not with the wise old somebodies. Each held part of the answer for their forgotten town. They quietly uncovered the forgotten newspapers and documents, the memories and testimonials that each had kept protected in their personal archives for so many years. They would remind the world that there really was a town called Somewhere. They gathered together at the little town center and asked the townfolk to just listen as they presented their findings. The wise old somebodies had both witnessed and made history. They simply did what no others could. The wise old somebodies restored the memory and the pride and envisioned a new future for the somebodies of a little town called….Somewhere. My hometown is San Bernardino. I am a freelance writer, animal welfare advocate and founder of the PAGE Project, which collects new and used items for animal rescue groups.