Along the Gulf Coast

Saturday, January 28^th, 2012

      Have you ever wondered what makes people live where they live? Why is it that person A will live here, while person B can't stand it and needs to live elsewhere? On top of that, I wonder what makes people the way they are; is it shaped by the landscape, or by the collective local culture, or both? Or is it that they are all somehow interrelated, and that there is no simple answer. I suppose that it is the latter of all these options, but I did gain some perspective today in regards to the regional climate and landscape.

      The sky was just hinting at dawn when I decided to roll out of bed and into action. I had a hard time convincing myself to do it, but the teddy bears talked me into it. I walked into the truck stop for the morning routine. Mockingbirds clustered along the dumpsters behind the truck stop, along my route. They sang a bright and merry song as they scavenged for food (if that is what you call it) from the dumpster. A salty breeze blew in from the ocean. I'm not sure how far I was from the coast at the time, but I certainly couldn't walk down to the beach if I wanted to. The warm red of the rising sun painted the clouds in broad swaths. Who knew such a simple task would hold a sublime moment? I think it may be that every moment has that potential if we choose to see it that way, but alas, I am all too human.

      I really enjoy driving along the Gulf Coast. The landscape is flat, but it contains a riot of life. Not only that, I enjoy some of the culture too. For a change, I turned on the radio this morning. Normally, I prefer to be with my thoughts, since they are more entertaining. (seriously, I'll laugh out loud for no apparent reason, but something on my mind is hilarious.) A quick scan of the available channels included 4 evangelical christian channels, a few country stations, a mix station playing all the stuff I know I like but won't broaden my horizons, and a single gem. I found a station (104.3!) that played *ahem* “southern soul, zydeco, and today's R&B.” I'm sure that there was a fourth kind of music that was in there, but the mix struck me as only possible in southern Louisiana. One of the Zydeco style songs I heard sounded like Hip Hop with some accordion thrown in. Most amusing!

      A little later, I got to hear stories on one of the Christian channels about “Friends from the Pond.” The cast included a dim witted turtle, a grumpy duck, a frog with a Brooklyn accent, and an Alligator with a deep voice, named Methuselah. The one full story I heard was about mysteries and the gang solving one. A fox was in there on business. Turns out he was scouting the site for a movie. Everyone was excited until they asked if the movie would have “bad language.” It did, so they all turned down the chance at stardom on principle. I'm impressed at their moral fiber. I would have said, “f*ck it. How much they paying me?”

      The swampy lowlands gave way to a drier woodland, more akin to a scrub land the further south I got. I turned in a southwesterly direction away form the coast. This part of Texas is sparsely populated and huge ranches dominate the country side. Not as much to see here, mostly because I was getting tired. Plenty of oil equipment and tanker trucks though.

      Of late, something has been getting to me. I think it may be my slowly realizing that while this job is convenient and pays well enough, I can be doing so much more with my life. It is as if I am getting memos from the future saying that I need to do something more important and change something some how. I'm sure the answer will come soon enough. For now, I'm just going to do my best and look for the brightest part in everything. Unless it is staring at the sun. That wouldn't help much in the long run, would it?

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Southern Compassionality

Friday, January 27^th, 2012

      Despite all of the pleading, pushing and cajoling, it seems that my fate was sealed. I asked nicely. I made excuses. I almost begged. I'm still to proud to do that, and sensible enough to realize that begging is not something I care to do. I'm still heading to Laredo. So now that that whole bit has been cleared up, I was left to make the best of the rest of my day.

      I love driving in the South over the winter. There is so much more greenery than elsewhere, although I've heard that it has been amazingly mild thus far. I wonder where all those people last year who were saying, “How about global warming now, we got 6 feet of snow?” I've not heard much from them of late, but I've been in a truck avoiding the terminals the best I can. Today's drive took me through Mississippi, along a few of the back roads.

      I've always had an appreciation for the landscape of the South. Soft rolling hills, bedecked with a mixed forest of spare conifers and mighty hardwoods. The undergrowth is what I remember most from my youth. I'd spend the summers in Virginia with my aunt. That was when I got that first smell of a different land. Smells aside, I was certainly enjoying the sunshine and warm temperatures today. I was blessed enough to catch a glimpse of some daffodils in full bloom along a few sections of freeway. They were in little clumps, but certainly enjoyable for someone who has not seen flowers in the wild for some time.

      For some odd reason, there was all sorts of traffic today. I understand that it is Friday, but man, where the hell do all of these people come from? At one point, I found myself comparing the drivers here with drivers in L.A. Stupid amounts of traffic all around, but people are nicer in L.A. I was a bit surprised. Over here, if you put your blinker on, tough nuggets. You are going to wait until a space is already cleared. In L.A., when a truck puts a blinker on, people actually stop and let you over. I recall one time another driver and I got into it comparing New York and L.A. drivers. He maintained that L.A. drivers were worse, and they are in that they cut you off and ignore you. I still say New Yorkers are the bigger bastards. They'll cut you off, then cuss you out for being in the way. That, and they won't let you merge until you are almost crushing their car into the jersey barrier.

      On a less funny and more introspective note, there was a small almost insignificant back up on I-10 west bound this evening. Just west of Baton Rouge, someplace after the I-110 split. Three lanes of traffic, going all sorts of slow. Up ahead, an emergency vehicle is on the right shoulder. Down here everybody is obligated to move over a lane for emergency vehicles. SO, three busy lanes into two overcrowded lanes. Dammit. I get up to the flashing blue lights, and see the tow truck driver putting gas in a lady's car. I raise my voice, and shout into the air of the cab, “Nice going numb-nuts!” Not that she could hear me. More for my own benefit and feeling superior.

      Then it hit me. That is exactly what I did. I made myself feel better at the expense of someone else. Actually, the more immediate thought was that I have no idea about that woman's circumstance. She could be a single mother of 4, unable to afford to fill the tank of her car for want of food for her kids. I silently reproached myself for judging so quickly. Her look of frustration, hand up to her head leaned against the window, returned to my mind. I could tell that she already felt bad enough. There was no need for me to add my negativity to the situation.

Often times, we find that the lesson comes after the test, as it did in this case. I'm getting better at catching myself, I just want to get even better at it. I once wished aloud to somebody some where, “I wish I had a little screen in my head that would display what I am about to say, then ask if I want to really say that.” Kinda like typing, a self check. Given that we will only ever speak so many words in this life time, I would like to make as many of those words as kind and gentle as I can.

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