Have any of you good old fashioned gear jammin’ diesel pushin’ freight relocators looked at a map in a while? I don’t mean a GPS or a phone app – I’m talking about an actual printed map. The kind you’d see hanging on the wall at a rest area or a truck stop. Usually, various places around the country would display a map like that, depicting the general vicinity of where you were at. As a kid, I used to enjoy finding these maps and trying to figure out our exact location. Most of the time, my intentions were spoiled by a little red star that was placed on the map with a label that read, “You Are Here.” Such a small label, and yet a large buzzkill for this little kid. But I still enjoyed comparing the distances we had traveled from one “You Are Here” label to the next. You see, kids, we had all the entertainment we needed before the smart phones came around! The concept of the “You Are Here” label just sort of hit me today as I was thinking about a topic for this poem. For every “You Are Here” label I can recall seeing as a kid, I think of my dad being right there, too. Now that he is gone, I think of those labels saying “You Were Here” – all those places dad took me to in the trucks that he drove. I can still go see many of those places today. Some have drastically changed, and some look as though time hasn’t touched them. But everywhere I go, I can think of a memory of dad being there, too. Thinking back to my childhood, dad was not able to be physically present in many cases, but that’s just the nature of the life of a long haul driver. But I don’t really think about how much he was gone – I think about the times we were together. They absolutely shaped me into who I am today. Dad, I don’t look back and think about the times in my life that you weren’t there, I look at everything I do now, and I think, “You Are Here!”
YOU ARE HERE!
By Trevor Hardwick
I stopped to make a payphone call,
And saw a map upon the wall.
A little star upon that map,
Said “You Are Here!” and just like that.
I felt your presence by my side,
And welled with tears I tried to hide.
I see you every now and then,
I wish that you were here again.
Like every time I cross a line,
Between two states or in my mind.
And when I lay that hammer down,
I feel your presence come around.
A puff of smoke and you’ll appear,
And I’ll be glad that you are here.
You’re with me every single trip,
I hear you in the C.B. skip.
I smell you in the diesel aisle,
I see you and it makes me smile.
Remember when we’d take those trips?
And all the places you’d take pics?
The state line signs and mountain views,
I see them now, and I see you.
I see nice trucks and I rejoice,
I can hear excitement, in your voice.
A Whopper, ‘Shaker, Mack or Pete,
“Look at that one, ain’t she sweet?!”
Remember when you’d let me drive?
That’s when I felt the most alive.
You helped me shift and let me steer,
And that’s still true ‘cause you are here.
I shift the way I think sometimes,
And try to steer between the lines.
I see you over, and over again,
Perhaps more now, then way back then.
I hear resemblance in the sound,
Of how my footsteps hit the ground.
When lightning strikes the desert plains,
I’ll feel you coursing through my veins.
When streetlights and my shadows race,
You’re right beside me, keeping pace.
You’re in the vapors on the street,
From blistering, sweltering, summer heat.
You’re in the stillness of the night,
And in the glow of chicken lights.
You’re gone for good, that may be true,
But I still spend my time with you.
I’ll run the map, and I won’t fear,
Because this map says, “You Are Here!”
