Friday, June 12, 2009

Extra Fries and a Diet Coke

Greetings from Shamrock, Texas. Not much here other than the Best Western that Shug, Phoebe, and I are calling home for the night and a few fast food restaurants. The young and astute hotel desk clerk, highly efficient and personable, informed me upon check-in that most people in Shamrock don't want to work. "They get government checks. Just lazy," she asserted without me inquiring about such. "So you don't like it here?" I asked. "I love it," she quickly corrected. "There is a nice mix of people, about 50% Hispanic and 50% whites. Hard to get good people to work, though. They left my fries out of the bag the other night at McDonald's. But they were real nice when I went back to get them. Gave me an extra order of them and a Diet Coke." So this is Shamrock, Texas I thought, as I walked back to the car to get Shug and Phoebe. A place with lazy but good people, ones who correct their mistakes by giving you an extra order of fries and a Diet Coke. I know in Asian cultures that balance is important, and it seemed that Shamrock, Texas had a similar ideology. We're in the right place, I said to Shug and Phoebe when I opened the car door.

Trying to leave Forrest City, Arkansas this morning was rather eventful. My paper bag full of gluten-free snacks burst in the parking lot, but a crippled, elderly man did his best to help me collect the treats. He picked up and dropped and then picked up and dropped a bag of my sesame pretzels, leaving me with pretzel crumbs at best. Then I spilled Phoebe's litter box in the floorboard of the car, but I am grateful that it was fresh litter.

Just outside of Stuttgart, Arkansas, and on each side of I-40 were the most verdant fields I have ever seen. While I have yet to visit Ireland, I imagined it would look like this. The plush foliage and sturdy trees reached toward the highway. And the iridescent sky was just short of offering up a rainbow. A sudden grace came over me, and I felt calm and more assured of my decision to move. Shug Avery was asleep in the passenger seat, and her head was resting on my right thigh. Drooling, Phoebe rested on my left thigh. First, Shug raised her head and stared at me. I recognized that look of love. Then Phoebe stood up, wobbling, and turned to me. With squinting eyes and loud purring, she kissed me twice on the lips. For a few minutes, I felt peaceful and full of love. I'm the luckiest man alive I thought. "I'm the luckiest man alive," I said out loud. And I said it again for good measure.

Right after I passed the sign telling me that I was in the Kickapoo Nation area of Oklahoma, the sky darkened, signaling the arrival of the torrential rains, gusty winds, loud thunder, and the low-to-the ground lightning. I drove for a few minutes, until my visibility was non-existent. Then I pulled over and comforted a trembling Shug. I sat and watched the menacing storm. Realizing that I dealt with the difficult weather much better when I simply stopped and accepted it, I had an "aha" moment. When I had kept driving, even when I couldn't see the road, I felt a lot of tension and anxiety. Once I chose to cease fighting, serenity came forth.

Near Clinton, Oklahoma, I noticed a few acres of land with at least 12 very large windmills. I wondered if the power generators belonged to T. Boone Pickens. From an environmental standpoint, from what I could tell, the structures didn't appear to cause any damage to the land. So, for those who argue that T. Boone was an oil man and shouldn't be trusted because of all the past raping of the land that he participated in, I say to remain open and not be so fast to convict and condemn. I'm wondering if maybe the windmills aren't T. Boone's offering of extra fries and a Diet Coke. Aesthetically speaking, I found the windmills quiet pleasing, like contemporary art sculptures on display in the flat lands of Oklahoma.

After 10 hours in the car, I crossed the Texas state line. "God Bless Texas," I said to Shug who raised her head and yawned, then went back to sleep. I noticed the sun bright and vast in front of me. When I started my drive, the sun was behind me. A crying Phoebe tried to climb from the back floorboard into the front seat. I lifted her by the skin on the nape of her neck, much like a mother cat picks up her kittens, and placed her in my lap. I looked up at the sun again. Though the night will come, in the morning when I wake, I knew the light would once again have my back. That was my extra fries and a Diet Coke.

No comments:

Post a Comment