Just a quick update to say that I’m safe and sound in West Tennessee, encamped with my dear friend Beth and her friends Becky and Paul at their beautiful off-grid farm near the village of Finger (local pronunciation = “Fanger”). If I could put your eyeballs in my head, this is what you would’ve seen over the last couple of weeks:
Amish buggy hitching posts at the Piggly Wiggly - Just the other day, I stood in line behind a young couple who could’ve been extras in a Clint Eastwood Spaghetti Western. She in her bonnet and calico, he in his satin vest and wearing a straw fedora. In their basket, staples only (in high volumes): eggs, flour, sugar, butter, corn flakes, etc. Outside, their buggy horse—hitched to the hitching post in the dedicated buggy parking zone—happily chewed shrubs at the edge of the parking lot, occasionally unloading its “organic” cargo onto the hot asphalt. (One wonders if the basket-collecting boys are also required to occasionally perform the not-so-savory task of “clean up at the hitching post!” in addition to “clean up on aisle nine!”)
Buford Pusser Home & Museum - Anybody remember this scary dude? Glorified by Hollywood in 1973 as a justice crusader? Walked tall? Carried a big stick? I made a quick drive-by yesterday to behold the “modest brick ranch home containing the original furnishings, photos, cars, guns and memorabilia of the Pusser family.” Apparently, the real-life former sheriff is one of the county’s claims to fame, even though he was said to be as crooked and corrupt as some of his seedy, redneck rivals.
You saw it at the drive-in, right? Double-billed with Texas Chainsaw Massacre? The Taj Mahal of laundromats - I would argue that the 731 Coin-Op & Laundry in Adamsville is a much more worthy claim to fame, since I would never connect the word “laundromat” with words like “pristine” or “glistening.” Go figure. It was a delight to wash my loads in this “clean as a whistle” environment. But as with all laundromats, beware of the HIGH setting on the dryers. Unless of course you want to shake and bake your skivvies.
Goats that like to get high - When he’s not eating yummy weeds and/or tree bark, Becky’s goat Vinnie (like all the other members of her herd) likes to climb his stump and laze in the sun. Perhaps gaining altitude as a way to avoid predators? An evolutionary trait inherited from wild goat ancestors? (Thank you, Google.)
NOTE TO VINNIE: My car hood is off limits, buster! A Place of Peace - No surprise here to my loyal readers: If I could claim a “home” within my home turf of the Tennessee Valley (Memphis on the west, Nashville on the east, North Alabama to the south), it would of course be the Shiloh National Military Park. Currently just 17 miles away from the farm. My “thin” place, my muse, my therapist. Nature-bathing central. And hopefully—if the planets align—the site of my next national park volunteer gig…
Re-creation of the old Shiloh Methodist Church, founded in 1851.
I hope this finds you all well and happy in the world. As always, thanks for your readership and support!
Peace & Love,
Mark
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