Labor Day Road Trip in Kerouac’s Lowell
Sep 2, 2018 · 13 min read

You can take the kid out of the mill town, but you can’t take the mill out of the kid. I carry a mill inside of me, and so did Jack Kerouac. Built in the dark, yearning north woods of my childhood, my mill stands by swiftly moving grey waters and blocks out the sun. In a real mill, there’s noise, dust, heat, speed, sparks, boredom, and sometimes blood. In my phantom mill, there are echoes of long-dead voices rattling…

