MONDAY, JULY 5, 2010 Late Night

I have still not figured out this Time Zone thing. My cell phone says one thing, my car clock says another, Amity's clocks say another, my computer says something else. I am beginning to think only in terms of morning, noon, and night.

I didn't say much about the trip from Jackson down to Beaumont. I did travel the Natchez Trace Parkway -- from Jackson toward Natchez-- which looked almost exactly like the Blue Ridge Parkway, but without the mountains. I drove for miles and miles on that highway without seeing another car, which was good for pondering what I had seen and learned and experienced in Jackson. (I may take add to my comments on that later. I am still pondering.)

I had originally planned to see Natchez because the Mississippi River is there; I brought one of my copies of Twain's Life on the Mississippi to compare and contrast. Unfortunately there was no time to travel to the banks of the River. I did drive through Port Gibson, established about 1811, which still has numerous antebellum homes standing and in beautiful condition. There were lots of historic markers that I sometimes stopped to read, though I considered it prudent not to knock on doors and ask for tours.)

I passed by Alcorn College and again remembered Medgar Evers, who attended school there.

I can now say that I have seen Louisiana -- but mostly through a violent, driving rain with my windshield wipers on "Fast" and still not going fast enough. Traveling West on I-10 toward Beaumont (and a night of rest), I thought I might have to pull over to the shoulder of the road because I could see nothing but the emergency blinking lights on the car in front of me. It was the kind of rain, however, that discourages pulling over because you don't know exactly where the shoulder is. I figured it must be remnants of Hurricane Alex; I expected to find globs of oil on my car when the storm ceased, but did not.

It was good to reach Beaumont and check into the hotel, where I wandered around with my mouth hanging open (see previous entry).

After my night in Beaumont, Texas, I drove for hours toward Austin.

Having no desire to drive south to Houston and then northwest to Austin, I took Highways 90 and 290 across the state north of that city. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately for the Houstonians), that city is expanding northward and bumping into the roads I tried to take.

Phone call to Amity:

Me: I see a city in the distance, and I'm not supposed to be near a city. I think it's a mirage.

Amity: I don't think so. Maybe it's one of those Texan factories -- some of them are pretty big.

Me: This is not a factory. This is a city. It sort of looks like the Emerald City in The Wizard of Oz, except it isn't green -- sort of foggy and gray, like a mirage. I don't know where I am. I don't like this. I've never seen a mirage before. And I'm concerned because I think it may be Houston, and I don't want to go to Houston.

The traffic became heavier and heavier, and there was BIG highway construction -- as in three levels of highway above me and three levels below.

I finally exited Super Highway of the Future and walked into a service station.

"Where am I?" I asked the clerk at the counter.

She seemed reluctant to tell me, because I think she didn't want me to stay there. "Uh, where you goin'?"

"I'm trying to get to Austin."

"Oh. Austin is THATaway."

I apparently was on the right road, but it was a detour. I hate detours.

Finally back on track, I began seeing signs telling me how many hundreds of miles to Austin. Highway 290 passes through what used to be cattle drive country, before railroads. I could almost see big clouds of cattle dust and hear the cattle bellowing. Scenes from Lonesome Dove, Days of Heaven, and Giant flashed across my mind. (Poor James Dean, poor Rock Hudson. Poor cattle.) I passed by gates that were obviously entrances to huge ranches -- again, no desire to stop and pass the time of day. I was too eager to get to Austin.

At the state line between Louisiana and Texas there is a mileage sign: El Paso, 858.

James says that Texans just want people to remember how big the state is. I'll give them that, and gladly.

I arrived at Amity's at around 4:00 PM because I overshot my mark and drove almost to El Paso. Amity's calm voice on the cell phone "Uh, Mom.... I think you've gone too far) guided me back in and to their place. (Remember phone booths? Where would I be on this trip if I had to stop at a phone booth every time I needed guidance?!?)

The photo above is taken from the balcony of their apartment.

This morning I attended a yoga class with Amity and James. Don't laugh. Some of those positions remind me of someone who has fallen off a high cliff and needs to be scooped up and carried home in a basket. But Amity loves it and is really, really good at it. The class I took this morning was a "restorative" class -- and there was nobody in the room who needed restoration more than I, after that drive of over a thousand miles. (Admittedly, some of those miles were backtracking. About four or five hundred of them, it seems.)

During one pose , where we put our hips against the baseboard and our legs high up on the wall, the instructor walked over and said to me -- in front of the whole class, and loudly -- "This position will help with the swelling in your feet." (Damn Mister. These are my feet's normal size!)

Later I will post more photos of Austin and my loved ones here. Amity hates having her picture made -- I think she is in the Witness Protection program -- but James, Ruby, and Holden don't mind.

Thanks for reading this, you guys who have told me you are. (Remember that our friendship does not require it.) I am just enjoying having a reason to journal more extensively than I might otherwise.