Sunday, April 18, 2010

Instant History

Sunday reading for my dears -- see you tomorrow.

On our way to Detroit, Angela and I stopped at a roadside café in Arkansas, the only place for miles where we could park our U-Haul. Both starving from our steady diet of M&Ms on the road, we ordered chicken fried steaks and surveyed our surroundings which seemed grim to her and familiar to me.

“We are the only people in the whole place who aren’t related to each other. Seriously,” Angela said.

The place didn’t strike me as odd as it did her; I’d come from Mineral Wells, where indeed most people were kin to each other in one way or another, making gossiping about anyone a tricky business. Hank and I managed to keep most of the blood lines straight with occasional gaffes relating to cousins by marriage and the like.

“And everyone is smoking,” Angela said. “Do they have any idea they are killing themselves? Don’t they care about second hand smoke?”

I glanced at a thin worn woman who appeared to be in her late forties and at least seven months pregnant. She sat smoking at a table with a man who put his hand on her stomach. He looked young enough to be her son.

“I don’t know if word about the dangers of smoke has gotten out around here,” I said. I didn’t mind it so much. It reminded me of the days when Grandma Yvette lived with us and a thick yellow cloud hung over her corner of the kitchen enclave like Pig Pen’s dirty aura.

“God, what do you think their story is?” Angela asked, referring to the unlikely couple.

“Hard to tell,” I said. “Instant history says the guy is a friend of her son who became involved with her after he dropped out of high school.” Hank and I played Instant History whenever we went somewhere new. The game didn’t work in Mineral Wells where we knew the histories all too well.

Our food came, my first bite reminding me of Salisbury steak day in elementary school. Angela put down her fork after a few half-hearted attempts at ignoring the obvious. We stuck with the mashed potatoes and asked for the check.

“I’m not going to forget this stop,” she said. “Let’s get you to Detroit. It may not be great, I know it’s better than this.”

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"When you have nothing left to burn, you must set yourself on fire." Jack Kevorkian

Cocktail Hour
Drinking new show suggestion: Treme on HBO -- missed the first episode, but looking forward to watching.

Benedictions and Maledictions
Thanks for all the good energies and prayers for Marci! I'll keep you posted on her condition. Happy Sunday!


jodi said...

Hiya Sweets, My friend Mark and I play that game, but now I have a name for it. Can't wait to tell him! xo

the walking man said...

I am confused. Now I know you left Detroit a long, long, looooong time ago. Yet you left on an airplane. I also surmise that you had to, by necessity, take a few side trips to hither and then to yon. And I also know that you are a wise traveler and too cheap to pay for extra luggage so you have learned economy of space.

What in the hell kind of souvenirs did you buy that necessitates a U-Haul? A full size reproduction of Mineral Wells?

Anonymous said...

Film: Made in Detroit: