The Brave Highway

Went for a little tea and sympathy last night, didn’t get either.  What did I expect? not much, hoped a little… missed her that much.  Took the brave highway, didn’t have a road map… she told me to get lost. 

Drifted around today, mostly cloudy and rain.  Felt antsy, like I needed to be going somewhere.  Sometimes the bug bites me and I wonder… “what am I hangin’ around for?” 

I moved alot when I was younger, back and forth… aimless.  Guess it started when I was a kid.  Never really had a home for more than a few months until I was in the sixth grade.  That upbringing put the wanderlust in me.  No real goals or desires, just being free…  I knew there was a big, bad ol’ world out there that I wanted to take hold of.  I wanted to experience things, see ’em up close and first hand… explore.

I hitch-hiked all over the country.  Slept under bridges and in parked cars, met people that helped me out and others that tried to take advantage of me.  Nearly froze to death in Montana during one winter, spent the night in a hospital.  Spent another night in a jail while passin’ through Cheyenne.  Always searchin’ for that elusive freedom, no strings, no responsibilities.  I’d get the brave highway itch and I’d just have to scratch it.  Sometimes I’d just hitch-hike to go somewhere.

I spent hours and rode many a mile on Greyhounds, slept in terminals with one eye open, panhandled money for something to do.  Snuck into theatres, hung out in museums, drank coffee in truck stops ’til the wee hours.  Made friends with Western Union, got stuck… needed money.  I was 16. 

Went from job to job, didn’t take no shit.  If I got pissed… I was gone… adios, sayonara, happy trails.

Sometimes the world isn’t the brass ring… you wish you could get off the merry-go-round.  You might even question your own sanity, your validity, the reason for your very being.  It is a tough place, a hurtful one if you are not careful… dangerous, unforgiving.  Cold.

My daughter is so much like I was then that I want to cry sometimes, for her… and myself.  Don’t go there, it isn’t safe for you.  3000 miles, out of reach, out of touch… I want you near, I say.  Just in case you need me.  It is easier for boys and it isn’t safe for them.  It wasn’t safe for me, I was lucky… I met her mother and settled down.  Became a man, became a better man than I ever could have while trying it my way. 

Rainy days like today… who needs them?  Who needs the struggle within when the easy way is so darn easy.  Turn your back, walk away… easy, right?  Forget your umbrella… let this rain just wash away all that bullshit, let it fill up those tracks that sunk with your weight in the mud.  That’s your reflection in the window… outside, looking away.  I don’t want my eyes to condemn me, those aren’t raindrops.

No, she needs me to stay here… I am a foundation, an institution, I am the voice on the phone when she is away and she is scared, or lonely because she had a fight… or worse yet, got a phone call.  Men are bastards, I say… I was a bastard. 

I want to chuck it all, the responsibilities and the headaches.  I want to run… it would be so easy.  Turn my back, don’t look back…

Cowards go, I tell myself… they take the easy way.  There is the brave highway now.  Somehow I got sidetracked, life put me on it… an unwilling participant but still navigating between the ditches.  Still counting road signs and walking those ribbons of asphalt, weaving between splinters of dotted white lines.  Dogs bark as I pass, threatening me… fields roll out to the horizon, birds chirp and follow along, dancing on fence posts or high voltage wire with impunity.  Katydids buzz a static monotone, dragonflies have dogfights while the air is filled with the aroma of barnyard animals, the farmers call it the smell of money.  Cars pass by… occasionally one honks to make me jump.  I’m not too close, the shoulder is just too narrow. 

There is no glamor, the romantic in me stinks from the baking sun…  my clothes look like I’ve slept in them and I’m hungry… I’m discusted with myself.  God, this rain! there is no rainbow… at times my feet are soggy and my heart is so heavy.  My soul is awash with regrets and the thoughts in my head plague me with doubt.   I want to go home and try again, take my place on the brave highway…

I’ve been here before…

peace.

Johnny Cash – Sunday Morning Coming Down

Johnny Cash – Sunday Morning Coming Down

I’ve heard it said that if God sang a song He’d have the voice of Johnny Cash…

peace.

learn to avoid Internet scams! send ten dollars to…

Get rich quick schemes, ya gotta love ’em.  I mean, getting rich quick is the best way to get wealthy, right?  Who wants to work, scrimp, save, invest and wait… wait and… wait?  We want those riches NOW! before we are too old to enjoy them.  Ofcourse, I’ve never heard ANYBODY complain that they were too old to enjoy their money.

I remember reading the Rolling Stone when it was an underground effort and way in the back pages were the want ads.  People advertised guitars, drums sets, tie-dyed t-shirts, hash pipes and auditions for rock and roll bands.  One person ruefully lamented, “If everyone would just send one dollar we could start our commune.”  I thought that was a unique concept.  Who couldn’t afford a dollar?

Ever since reading that little ad I have wondered about all those marketing ploys and pyramid efforts.  Who had the kahuanas to dream those up, anyway?  They had to know there were enough “marks” out there that would gobble up the notion of getting rich quick hook, line and sinker without giving a thought to who might be harmed.  Imagine bilking someone out of their life savings because you had appealed to their own greed?  Would that make you a bad guy?  Not hardly, thinks the guilty person… you can’t put one over someone that is honest.  The “mark” gets what he deserves if he “buys” into the scam. 

Of course, the culprits that start the ball rolling are the ones that make out in the long run.  They are at the top of the money mountain that keeps getting pushed up higher by the fledglings underneath who dream of life on easy street and are swept away by the intoxicating allure of wealth.

It is called a Ponzi, named after an illegal Italian immigrant who lived the American Scheme.  Promising great returns to investors, people flocked to him and eventually invested millions of dollars.  Back in the 1920’s, a million was a lot of dough.  He paid off the early birds with the ever increasing revenue of the also rans.  Even after he was caught, people refused to believe that their judgement and faith in him was not sound.

Today’s economy troubles lend credence to get rich quick enterprises and put hope into the hearts of unwary people in search of relief.  Beware!  unscrupulous people seek to pry those hard earned dollars from an unsuspecting public, if it sounds too good to be true… it probably is.

So now that being said,  in a continuing effort to educate the public, you too, can learn to avoid Internet scams.  Just send ten dollars…

and welcome to the camp!

 peace.