The Bruiser and I have an agreement that we would never put
the other on the ground. Regrettably, I let The Bruiser down today. In a
mindless moment in a parking lot I lowered the bike to the kickstand which was
not down properly and down we went in a slow motion fall. Most of the impact
was absorbed by yours truly so it was a soft drop and there was no damage done;
still, it was an unhappy sight to see my faithful steed on the ground. There
was no humanly way I could set it upright again on my own. At 600 lb unloaded I
just don’t have the strength.
Peeling off my jacket and helmet that were suddenly getting
very warm I looked around for help. A big white pickup with a very large man
pulled up within moments, and as I babbled a bit about the circumstances, this Man Mountain
wordlessly picked The Bruiser off the ground like it was a bicycle,
acknowledged my inadequate words of appreciation with a simple nod, and drove
off.
Foolishness and gratitude swirled about me as we carried on
our way. I heard myself apologizing to this big piece of machinery that has
been my companion.
Poverty Point is a designated National Monument 15 miles up
the road (on Hwy 17 if you are following this). Roughly 4000 years ago in a
time before the North American Indian as we know them, there were prehistoric
tribes who build huge earthen mounds similar to the Emerald Mound I saw
yesterday. Poverty Point is one of the largest on the continent, and it is
monstrous when one considers that it was built from endless baskets of dirt.
The earliest of these people date back 10,000 years. I was waiting to go on a
guided shuttle tour at 10:00, but when a school bus loaded with kids arrived
and one that I heard coming long before it pulled into the parking lot, I opted
for a tour of the self-guided variety.
 |
| An historic pile of dirt. |
The remainder of the day was spent on Hwy 2 crossing the top
of Louisiana.
Poncho approached me at a fuel stop in Mer Rouge. Has the same bike as The
Bruiser. It is back in D.C. and he wants to go back to retrieve it as soon as
he gets work and his health improves. I have heard many personal stories in
parking lots in every state with folks generous of spirit and full of life but invariably
tinged with pain and regrets. That is true of all of us, no? We always part
with sincere blessings for whatever comes next in our lives.
 |
| Darwin said it best: "Adapt or die"! If you are a tree in Louisiana you'd better get used to swamp. |
Little towns equally spaced like beads on a bracelet
approach and recede. This area is rural, homespun, ordinary, green, content and
untouched by tourism. For some reason the lines of one of my favourite old
poems appeared across the screen of my mind today (and anything that replaces Glenn
Campbell lyrics is welcome!) American poet e.e.cummings wrote:
Anyone lived in a pretty how town
With up so floating, many bells down…
Someones married their everyones
Laughted their cryings and did their dance…
One day anyone died I guess
And noone stooped to kiss his face
Busy folk buried them side by side
Little by little and was by was
…
The whole, beautiful thing is at http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15403
The poem is a cyclic tale of a little community of Everyman
(Anyone and Noone are the names of two generic protagonists) who live, and
love, and work and die, all the while the earth keeps circling the sun and so
it goes. Only the place remains, together with the ever-changing artifacts of
the life works of those who lived there. I saw that in these little towns. But
of course it could be anywhere—grain farming communities in Saskatchewan
or little hamlets in Hungary.
Passing through them is a one-dimensional look at a four dimensional scene that
changes and evolves but in some ways retain a certain identity. Notwithstanding the
McDonald’s and WalMarts that eventually set up on the perimeters. The churches (there are an
astonishing number of them here!) and homes and derelict old structures that I
have been grousing about in previous monologues are the chronicles of this
living poem. In my words, ordinary, green and content. Cummings said it so much
better.
From Louisiana back to Texas. God help me! It
took me a week to cross Texas
the first time!
We are set up tonight at Daingerfield State Park
off Hwy 49. After dinner I strolled down to the lake and chatted with an older
couple who created a picture of serenity fishing off the dock as the sun casts
that wonderful orange light late in the day.
I am sleeping these nights without a fly on the tent so I
can see the planetarium show under the sky. Venus is in near conjunction with
the moon and it is a truly glorious sight! Each of these objects is a symbol of
love and beauty, and when they are nearly touching it is an awesome sight to
behold for lovers and dreamers and poets. Even for grizzled bikers.
