Friday, September 3, 2010
Sometimes a man just wants to disappear. Right now, on the brink of another season, nothing sounds better than taking my Marlin 336 and walking for hours, days, through a lonesome pasture or hill country. Live alone. Eat simple. Write and read on my own clock. Unload the working class monkey.
Exist for the day and the moment with only myself to rely on.
But life takes over, reminds me. Commitments. Loved ones.
As a remedy I’ve delved into the past. Digging into my family history which is murky, shady and rarely mentioned by others in the clan. Reading books about a bygone time when people lived by the heels of their boots and the strength of their backs. And writing about the same. I do not mind straying from a path, not always knowing where I’m headed.
Sooner or later, we always get to where we are supposed to be.