A Living Magazine - Day 158 - Thanksgiving Carianchimana and Demetrice

Very nice and warm night. I woke to a clear sunrise. The apartments across the street were closer than I had remembered the night before. I'd have to find another spot somewhere on this same 9.2 acre (said the for sale sign) parcel, but it shouldn't be difficult to do later that day.

I opened the tent flap and saw this glowing in sunlight...

A moss cross.

I dug through the pack and found some  mints from Jeff. They would have to do until I brushed my teeth later...

Pack up went fast, and realized I didn't need the tarp--a mental note for this next night. I had to blaze a new pathway to the street, where I took a right and then continued on down to the McDonald's, about a mile and a half away. There are frontage roads running on either side of Route 80, and the westbound one had a bunch of closed businesses, some of which I'd seen on the walk to Wal-Mart the night before. I found this one particularly interesting; an abandoned Super 8 motel...

Check out the palm trees. I hadn't seen any since leaving Oregon.

It was Thanksgiving Day and there sure were a lot of people spending it at McDonald's. Some were travelers sneaking a snack before they arrived at the bigger dinner with relatives, but most were local folks. I figured a chicken dinner would be close enough to a turkey dinner...

I wasn't very upset to not be having a traditional meal. But I thought it would be nice to have one; pretending that I had turkey and stuffing.

I got some work done, and was able to touch base with people online, but before my post was complete, the Wi-fi kept cutting off. I'd had this happen before. McDonald's will let you have an hour and a half, then an hour, then a half hour, then chunks of fifteen minutes. But with each new sign on, you have to go to their splash page. And, I've been to enough McDonald's to know that the first three letters for auto fill to catch the rest of the splash page, are "nmd..." It took a few times of being cut off, while I was on the West Coast to pick up on this little trick. Not knowing them, means you only have one hour.

I got sick of signing in every fifteen minutes, and packed up. It was not clear whether the local branch of the library - located in a strip mall near by - would be open the next day. The website said "Black Friday may affect library hours". I also had no idea what the bus system would do on the day after Thanksgiving, or even the Saturday after. Their website: Montgomery Area Transit, "The M", is by far the crappiest bus site of any city I've been to. Routes are color-coded, but only when you choose the associated area, which of course an out of towner like myself doesn't know the areas. The maps are glitchy. It is not specified whether transfer tickets are available, and there are no online schedules, nor bus stop locations shown! The only thing I found out for sure was that fares - one way - are $2.00.

I was at a loss to know what to do with the rest of the day. I figured I would just explore the green island and find another spot, then hang out there for the remainder of the day and night; maybe work offline...

Seen on the way back. Hell maybe marriage was worth the risk,

if it only cost $175 to get divorced?

What do we call these kinds of lawyers? Limousine chasers?

I walked through the Badcock strip mall parking lot as a shortcut back to the sleep spot, and was about halfway across when I saw a nice black car with tinted windows circle way around and then drive up to me. I thought I was in their way so I moved over. They stopped and a very kind-faced woman rolled down her window and said, "Hi!! We're just heading to a relatives and saw you walking. Would you like a Thanksgiving meal?" She held up a styrofoam container.

I was taken a bit off-guard, and stammered out, "I...I...guess... Sure." She got out and handed me the container, and we talked a little bit. She asked if she could get a picture with me. Her husband got out and they took shots of me with each of them. I told them about my project and handed a card to each. They told me their names. She was Demetrice and he, Carianchimana.

She said, "We're the Coons, from Flint, Texas!" Then asked, "Oh, hey! Do you want some cake too?" They went around back to the trunk and pulled out another container, putting both in a paper bag. I thanked them and we agreed that we would try to stay in contact...

Carianchimana and Demetrice Coon.

As I heard them pull away, and across the parking lot, I was filled with emotion. They weren't going around giving food to homeless people, they just happened to see me. I was honestly overcome. My eyes filled with tears... and, I wept as I walked.

Finally, I got to the other end of the green island from where I'd slept the night before, near Wal-Mart, and walked down the dirt road I'd seen on Google Earth, to a very pleasant and private grassy spot, with cut logs, where I could actually sit and enjoy a REAL Thanksgiving dinner...

I had no idea yet what was in the containers. I opened them, and holy mackerel!...

Collard greens, steamed perfectly, with slices of bacon; white beans with pieces

of fat back; brown sugar baked ham, chunks of white breast meat, two pieces of

baked chicken; and a stuffing (or "dressing" as they call it here) made like bread

pudding but tasting like a breaded stuffing, New England style.

It was fantastic! More than I could have ever wanted. Everything was delicious. I couldn't believe I still had room after my chicken sandwich earlier. But I ate like I hadn't eaten in days. When I'd plowed through half of it all, I closed up the container and opened the second box...

Chocolate walnut cake with coconut frosting, and strawberry cocoa

cake with (I think?) lemon almond frosting.

It was a beautiful afternoon. This place was so peaceful and I was able to truly rest for the first time in weeks. What people sometimes don't understand is the value of just sitting. I can always stand. That is what I spend most of my time doing. And, of course I can set up the tent and lie down, but sitting in the tent is not very comfortable. That's why, when I found a five gallon bucket in Milwaukee that I could use as a seat and a milkcrate in Memphis, I was ecstatic in both cases--really! And here in Montgomery, these logs did the same thing for me...

After eating, I looked around the area a bit and saw a hole about eighteen inches in diameter. I walked over to it...

Ominous, and filled with water.

Looking carefully I saw a dead squirrel half submerged. I got the terrible feeling he hadn't been the only animal to make the mistake of falling into this hole. Once in, there was no escape. I remembered when we were kids, my dad had a barn with a dirt pit for oil changes. One day he went out and found a mouse floating in the three inches of water. All around the edges of the pit were tiny scratch marks where the mouse had tried to pull himself out. In an unusual show of mercy (for my dad), from that day forward, he left a piece of wood propped up so that if another mouse ever fell in it would be able to escape.

I looked around for a log to do the same thing in this hole. I located one that was about twelve feet long and three inches thick, and slowly lowered it into the hole. I thought that maybe it would be about six feet deep, but it just kept going down, and was actually swallowed up completely! I couldn't believe this hole was so deep. If a child were to fall in and no one knew it, that would the end. No logs were long enough to reach the bottom, so I decided to cap it instead, rolling a large stump over and onto it...

I considered setting up the tent out in the open but quickly dismissed the idea. Searching all around the area, I found what I think was an ideal spot, just over a way and totally hidden from all sides. It was just under this tree...

In about an hour the sun went down and I climbed in...

I was tired, but it wasn't a physical exhaustion. Psychologically, I was worn out. I'd been experiencing this fatigue more and more regularly in the last month. I loved what I was doing, but I saw so many different things each day--many more than I would see just living in an apartment and following a domestic routine. It is impossible to relate what that feels like, although I've put a lot of effort into trying to do that here at the blog. This constant barrage of new experiences every single day, combined with my tendency to think so deeply about everything, and along with being so easily moved by the pain, suffering, and hard lives of the many people, and even animals I encountered, seemed to be weathering me. I was a wooden post caught in a tornado.

I tried to separate myself from the whirlwind, with a breathing technique I'd developed to aid in falling asleep. It eventually worked, and I slipped off.