Right now, heading South is difficult for me ... dredges up too much silt from the bottom. It won't be this way forever. But, for now, it is. I retaliate by thinking ... supposing ... and especially imagining.
Cast out of Eden due to our apple-eating, heathen ways. I discarded my fig leaf and pulled up my big-boy britches. From here on out, it would be the “when in Rome” concept for us. We swerved and slid to a halt in the driveway of Bojangles. I burst through the doors and spat but one word … FRIED. “I’ll have the fried chicken - legs and thighs thank ya… and the fried mash potatoes ... and the fried biscuit … ice tea - sweetened and supersized … and would you mind frying that tea. Bless your heart.”
... and then ...
While back in the old stomping grounds, we have been re-acquainting ourselves with the history of the South. The ONLY history of the South that is … the Civil War. I have immersed myself into some of the lesser known strategies employed to win the war. We found a statue and marker alongside the road near Lumberton, NC … very much by accident. It was almost entirely hidden from view due to a dense mat of vines and broad, deep-green leaves engulfing both statue and sign. Pulling away the entangled vines, we read about a plot, allegedly launched by one Jedidiah Sutphin. The plan was to send a small band of confederate soldiers, disguised as simple farmers, deep behind Northern lines and onward to the capitol itself. Once there, they would clandestinely plant kudzu throughout the capitol and other strategic locations … therein bringing the Northern political and commerce machine to a grinding halt in a matter of a few months time. Unfortunately, Jedidiah launched his plan in early October and the brilliance of his plan, along with any hopes for eventual victory for the South, died on the vine along with the kudzu thanks to the early frosts so familiar to anyone who had every been North.
... and then ...
First day on the beach and I was enjoying my early morning ritual walk. It was evident from the start that sunrise was out of the question given that I refused to arise but so early. In the distance, I noticed a sizeable crowd gathering near the pier. People were scurrying towards the pier, almost in a panic. My first thought was that a whale had washed ashore or something. I overheard a passer-by commenting that a school of thumpers had beached. I rushed to see the spectacle.
Near panic greeted me as I approached the crowd. Bodies were strewn on the sand everywhere I looked. I wondered aloud if somehow a sumami had sweep through an assisted-living facility and had deposited its human refuse along the beach. Forming the circumference of the crowd were small metal boxes on spikes that had been driven into the sand and people were already stuffing money into them … like for a Save the Whales Campaign. I heard music and I knew … it was thumpers alright! I grabbed my phone and dialed '463'. “Thumpers at the pier”, is all that I said.
“Stay on the phone, we are dispatching a unit” was the reply. Minutes later the MDU (Multitude Dispersal Unit) arrived and it all broke loose. The thumpers were clearly ready to surrender without a fight. Nearly half the group were waving their hands from side to side above their heads franticly and mumbling to themselves with bowed heads. I think they said something about making "amends". The fish and loaves vendors took off towards the pier. The Walk on Water instructor was face down in the surf while the MDU officer was slapping on the cuffs. The last of the serpents was lowered into the cage by the animal control personnel. I watched the officer slip the mason jar of venom into an evidence bag as they led a thumper (a small bubble of foam still clinging to the corner of his mouth) away.
I had seen enough. I turned to walk away. Three thumpers sat in the rear of the squad car. They glared at me … I read their lips … I recognized the words , “Get thee hence …”