June | Fourteen | Two Thousand Nine
Miles and miles of green fields. Tractors and trailers and automobiles. Tornado warnings and lettered highways. Small towns of a few hundred.. smaller even. Here there are more churches than restaurants.
A much more rythmic pace of life. Calm and gentle.
“May I help you with anything at all sir?” seconds after I pull into the filling station. “Alright now, but you be sure to stop in and say goodbye when you’re done you hear?”
BULLS FOR SALE reads a sign on the side of the road I travel on. OLD MAXINE’S DINER must have gone out of business thirty years ago and is still standing… Minus the major roof damage most likely caused by a severe storm, which are all too common. But don’t you worry, PAPA JOE’S EATERY is doing just fine. It’s the place to be if you’re anyone in town.. literally, anyone.
Trees split in half. Power lines down. The morning after a giant tornado ripped through this, another small town, leaving behind a trail of devastation. Yet the country folks still waving as I pass through. Smiles are sent my way. I feel foolish and hopeless, as all I can do is smile and wave back.
Where the love for life trumps all hardships.
Where the right way to live seems like the only viable option.
Where family matters.. And so do I.
… And yes of course, God bless America
