Some
‘time’, by that I mean it could happen in any time period I happen to visit,
the sky is liable to explode in a cascade of lights: a coruscated sky. That’s
why I plan to spend as many nights as possible outside. In 2030 no one had
memories of such a thing happening. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen
sometime prior to 2030. In assessing human history, memories are usually the
most unreliable source.
Either
I had dozed off or had simply been lost in a bit of reverie when a bump in the
road caused me to awkwardly shift in my seat (this was before seatbelts).
“Sorry
about that. The bump seemed like it appeared out of nowhere.”
“I
guess road repair is not the top of the agenda.”
“Actually,
it is. The government is looking for all kinds of things that need fixing in
order to give men and women jobs. I guess the road crews just haven't made it out
this far yet.”
“Well,
the bump was probably a good thing. I needed waking up, obviously. It wasn’t
polite of me to doze off like I did.”
“No
offense taken. But I will say that politeness is one of the few nice things
left in a society short on cash and optimism.”
We
had reached the farm supply store that she hoped would buy her hay. I said
thanks and started walking into town.
The
ancients believed the earth was the center of the universe. If we are the only
conscious beings in the universe, then they were right.
Prestonville
had a small park in the town square. I sat down on a bench underneath a shade
tree and did some people watching. It must have been a weekday because only
small children with adults were walking in and out of stores. The older kids
were probably in school. There was a lot of foot traffic at a barber shop. I
decided to eat lunch at ‘People’s Drug Store’. I took a seat at the counter and
ordered a ham sandwich and a cup of coffee.
The
man who served me appeared to be the only employee in the store. “Look here,
I’ve got to fill a couple of prescriptions. Help yourself to as much coffee as
you want.”
“Thanks,
I’ll do that.”
The
pharmacist walked over to the back part of the store where bottles of various
1930’s drugs were neatly positioned on the shelves and began working on filling
the prescriptions. It must have been a slow part of the day because he and I
were the only ones in the store.
About
fifteen minutes later he came back over to the counter. “How was that sandwich?
My wife cooks the ham in the morning and brings it over for the lunch crowd.
You were lucky. Usually whatever she cooks is gone by this time.”
“I
see why.”
His
name was Bill, age 52, born in a nearby town. He moved to Prestonville a few
months after finishing pharmacy school. A year later he married the preacher’s
daughter. They had three kids, and now even had a couple of grandchildren. He
had no plans of retiring.
“With
this damn depression not ending, I’ll probably have to work until I’m eighty.”
I
could have told him he would die of a heart attack in a few years but that
would be needlessly cruel.
Bill
then asked the inevitable question, “What brings you here?”
“Just
passing through. Caught a ride into town with a lady selling hay.”
“Come
from an easterly direction?”
“That’s
right. How did you know?”
“The
only woman around these parts who brings her farm products into town by herself
is Maggie Herbstreet. She lost her in husband in a farming accident last year.
They didn’t have any kids so she’s running the farm by herself.”
“That’s’
pretty impressive.”
“Now
she does have part-time help, but they come and go with the seasons.”
Bill
and I talked for another hour before the late afternoon crowd, which including
kids and teenagers just getting out school, started coming in. I told Bill
goodbye.
I
then walked a little over five miles before making camp for the night. The same
stream that had flowed by the night before was once again close to where I
slept.
It
was very dark. I purposely avoided artificial lights of any kind so I could
have a clear view of the heavens. I did see one falling star before slipping
off into unconsciousness.
I
was stirred awake by someone gently kicking me in the side. I looked up to see
a uniformed man towering over me.
“Wake
up, bum! You’re on private property.”
“I
didn’t see a no trespassing sign.”
“Some
other bum must have torn it down. Now get up and get moving. Pronto!”
I
had no desire for conflict with the law. Now I could have easily persuaded the
officer to allow me to stay there but since I had gotten a good night’s sleep
and the sun was beginning to rise, there was no real point in staying. I
assumed a shuffling gait as I left. I didn’t want the officer to think I was
spry and agile. He might have decided he could fine me and make me work it off
manicuring the courthouse grounds.
The
greatest speed in the universe is the speed of thought. Using it, you can
instantaneously travel millions of light years in a fraction of a second. It’s
the favorite mode of travel for celestial beings. Not that I’ve ever met a celestial
being. We don’t go to the same cocktail parties.
In
the days ahead, I would have to be a little more careful where I bedded down
for the night. The past night I had slept a little too close to the road and as
a result, I was more easily spotted by passersby.
But
the area of the country I was in was predominantly a heavily rural one and
vehicles along the road were as a rule few and far between. This was also a
time when a few farmers, the ones who couldn’t afford gasoline, were still
using either horses or mules to carry their agricultural products to
market. I was offered a lift on such a
conveyance around mid-morning. I sat beside the driver, a farmer named Lucius
Applebaum. He looked to be past sixty-five.
I
asked him, “What do you think about Mr. Roosevelt’s new Social Security
program?”
“I’m
against it. People in this part of the country take care of their own security,
social or otherwise.”
“But
lots of folks live in the city and can’t grow their own food and have to make
rental payments each month. Once they lose their jobs or simply lose the
ability to work productively, they have nothing to fall back on.”
“That’s
why you save.”
Lucius
was a hard nut to crack but I can’t say I totally disagreed with his sentiments.
Is
the human race one individual, by that I mean, if someone was to put all of us
together into one body, would it be overall a healthy body or a sick one? If it
was a football game, it would be the fourth quarter, and one team (us) would be
about forty points behind with time running out. But who is the other team?
Lucius
was taken watermelons to the market in a town called Reutersburg. Before
getting to town he directed the two mules to a large oak tree where an artesian
well had been flowing since colonial days. While the mules drank, Lucius
cracked open one of the smaller melons and offered me half.
“The
smaller ones are sometimes the tastiest ones.”
Now
that’s one subject in which we were in total agreement.
Before
parting, Lucius said, “If you’re still around town tonight, you ought try out
Mama Jody’s place on the west side. There’s a young man playing some hot
guitar.”
“The
Blues?”
“Nothing
but.”
The
places I’d been and would be going to were not always places that could be
found on the same map. The information on a map was never one-hundred percent
correct because as soon as the map was printed, something had changed. In my
case, the changes were even more profound because the places I visited weren’t
always in the same time period.
I
did go that night to the “juke joint”. It was loud and smoky with a slight hint
of potential violence in the air. I stayed for a couple of hours and the music
was unlike anything I’d ever heard before. Amazing what a talented individual
can do with only a voice, acoustic guitar and harmonica.
I
had to buy something to drink so I could stay there. There was no cover charge.
I think the drink I got was something they call 99 proof whiskey. Luckily, my
stomach was immune to almost anything I could throw at it.
After
my experience with the law officer, and the fact that I was still probably
inside his territorial authority, I decided to spend the night in a flea bag
hotel. As it turned out, the fleas did not seem to be interested in me.
I
visited the local undertaker, a Mr. Samuel Samuels, the next morning before
leaving town. I had been planning to meet a certain individual in Reutersburg
but was told at the juke joint he had recently passed away. This surprised me
because I had been operating under the assumption that everyone on my list
would be still be alive when I “accidently ran” into them.
The
undertaker was also the town’s life insurance salesman. Which means he profited
from both death and life. Not a bad way to go.
As
it turns out no one had died recently. Samuels was at his life insurance
office. I walked in and asked the secretary if I could have a minute of Mr.
Samuels’ time.
She
said sure, then hollered, “Hey, Sam, somebody wants to talk to you.”
A
sonorous voice came wafting from the back office, “Send ‘em on back.”
I
walked in his office and said, “Mr. Samuels…”
“Call
me Sam and have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”
I
started to wonder why Sam was being so nice to a stranger. Did he think I
needed life insurance or did he think I was about to die?
We
exchanged a few more pleasantries. Apparently, it had been a wet spring. The
crops were looking good.
I
then said, “I wanted to ask you about a man you buried a few days ago. I was
hoping to talk to him in person but sadly, I found out he had only recently
passed away.”
“You
mean Lincoln Adams?”
“That’s
right.”
“Well,
if your questions aren’t too personal, I might be able to answer a few. I
didn’t know Lincoln that well. He pretty much kept to himself.”
“Didn’t
he serve in World War I?”
“I’m
not sure. If he did, he never talked about it.”
I
stood up. That was the only answer I needed.
Sam
looked a little surprised but quickly recovered. “Have you thought about buying
life insurance?”
“Mine
is already paid in full.” I answered. Smiling, I left Sam’s place of business.
Each
one of us creates his or her own reality – a smaller reality inside a greater
reality. And just like reality itself, there are no limits in size, in either
direction.
