A COMPOSITE TRAVEL ESSAY
Sentences for Review
A white wrought iron birdcage from Mexico hangs from
its round frame. So, it needs a paint job. A little energy and a can of Krylon will fix it
up in no time flat. A rusty nail punch is mixed in with a box of worn out farm tools. A
dash of WD-40 and a few whisks from a wire brush will put it back into usable condition.
That small side table covered with nine layers of bright white enamel paint looks
promising. Fleck off a chip of paint to check the wood. Yes, it is walnut, so I stow it
under my other arm. Cast-iron pots, partial sets of stainless steel flatware and dishes, a
chrome and plastic dinette set: these are just a few of the items waiting for new homes.
The Ralph Mark Gilbert Civil Rights Museum is a beige brick, five-level
building with two levels of six row windows above the entrance level. The entrance door is
flanked by medium windows sandwiched between lime green and pink accent windows. The
bottom left corner of the building consists of a morphed photo of a group of African
American students, kneeling with heads bowed in prayer, in a circle around a grass mound
outside Sol C. Johnson High School in protest against the firing of their principal,
Alforeance Cheatham, for seeking better school texts and facilities.
He lives out of a brown and tan Coachman motor home that is probably
more tan and white when it's clean. It was missing the right side mirror, had a spider web
crack in the front windshield and had a doughnut tire that looked like it would pop at any
second under the heavy weight. He walked inside and came out with a book that he
recommended that I read. It was Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller.
As I was leaving I stopped at a booth that was surrounded by smoke and
the smell of vanilla that was coming from a black ceramic wolf, howling, with smoke coming
from its mouth. "How many can I get you?" the man said. I looked up and saw a
man with a gold tooth smiling at me holding out a plastic bag. "Ten for a dollar or
twenty-five for two." he said. It was the same man that I had seen earlier driving
the blue Volkswagen Bug. He was a vendor selling incense, jewelry and ethnic art.
We turned back to Metter's main street, attracted to a big red sign
which said "RESTAURANT." We parked among the Sunday Buicks and Pontiacs, and
went into Edenfield's, "Where Your Friends Meet to Eat." "The finest people
in the world walk through our door–our customers!" The finest people in the
world were all over sixty-five, we discovered, packed in groups of four into all the
available booths, and all dressed better than we were, having come from church and not a
walk in the woods. But the white-haired woman who greeted us said there was plenty of room
for us back in the dining room, past a steaming buffet, under an open-mouthed fish and
near a clock from which a handsome buck peered through layers of lacquer. A pink sign over
the table of our red-leather booth requested that
Please
Keep Our
Booths
Looking Neat!
Keep Your Feet
Off our Seat!
This sign was color-coordinated with the menus, "compliments of local
merchants" who advertised on the back, the used car dealer, the local pharmacy, the
satellite dish company, and the "Try-Me Ext. Co., Inc.," your source for
"Ga. Wood Infestation Reports," "Locally Owned and Operated by Lucky
Foss." If I needed a termite letter in Metter, I knew I'd call Lucky.
After climbing a winding, narrow stairway, we were
"upstairs." The upper level, called the terreplein, surrounds the fort but is
opened in the middle like a courtyard. The terreplein is laid out with grass, and houses
seven or more surviving cannons. There are no railings to prevent someone from falling to
a cement-impacted death. There is a "No Running" rule on the upper level, but I
saw several children running very close to the edge and I was worried they were going to
fall. The wall of the upper level was showing signs of battle and decay and was missing
sections of the wall. The thin air must have affected my thinking and in my heightened
state, I climbed the wall. (Or, maybe I was just being rebellious and doing the things I'd
always wanted to do.) This too, I'm sure was forbidden, but I did not see any signs saying
not to climb on the crumbling, deteriorating wall. I guess the fort keepers figured common
sense would keep someone from doing just that. Standing of the edge, I looked down at the
moat. I was inches from plunging to my watery grave. Actually, I wouldn't have died at
all, just been extremely humiliated. After my semi-close call, we left the fort.
It is the stretch between home in Gaiman and Trelew, both cities
situated in North East Chubut, that has kept millions of tourists breathless, what has
made many foreigners think of the unreachable and what has made my commuting to work so
deadly boring. Have I dreaded it! During short cold winter days, as in July, one can not
really tell what is more uneventful or, better said, what is more graceful, the
iron-colored clouds or the landscape. A simple glance at the naked bushes in their
military shades passes on the feeling of being in the middle of nowhere, freezing from the
toes to the teeth. The lack of periodic rains leaves infinite scars on the ground.
Finally, when God remembers that the south also exists and lets some drops fall down, all
the forms of life present in the area rise their huge mouths and open their dry throats
full of dust and wind to the sky. There scars are then healed for some time, but everybody
knows that the menacing red sun will exert its power and will burn with choler the center
of the earth once again.
Tensions are high among the students who do not believe the only way of
life is through religious activities. When Meredith and the majority of her friends were
perspective students, they were only informed of the strong academics and the sense of
community. Meredith supports that these aspects of the school are definitely there, but
that they would have chosen another school had they known about the strictness of rules
that Furman enforces for all their students and faculty. All students are required to live
on campus in a dorm or apartment, no matter what year or age you are, nor can you drink
any form of an alcoholic beverage in your own living space. Along with these two
inappropriate rules, the members of the Greek community are unable to have a house for
their sorority or fraternity. If more then six women of the same age live in a house
together it is considered to be a brothel. Meredtih says that these rules, as ridiculous
as they seem to most of us, are backed 100% by the Furman alumni. Because the alumni are
the ones that give Furman the majority of the money they have which is a lot these rules
must be followed. The alumni feel that Furman should not change or alter their rules
according to the times.
Before reaching Exit 17 to Statesboro, I gratefully noticed a few extra
cars at the truck weigh station. A red Cadillac was parked near the entrance of the
terminal (I imagined that was someone bringing supper to a Trooper). There were three
State Trooper vehicles parked in the parking lot, probably waiting eagerly to catch a
trucker trying to by-pass his check point. Suddenly – everything was back to normal.
I viewed the expected sights of trees, trees and more trees. Occasionally a Stucky's
diesel truck stop would pop up, with weather a worn sign in desperate need of paint, and
dingy storefront windows. At Exit 19, my eyes eagerly caught sight of a large man with an
over-lapping stomach, pinched by denim colored pants climbing into his Mack truck in the
parking lot of the BP Station. Once focused, my eyes were not so pleased by their
discovery.
Cold night air rushes into the lobby blowing off the newspaper drape
covering a sleeping man, whose massive bulk consumes two seats. He reaches out, never
opening his eyes, and pulls the drape back, disappearing again with only his mismatched
laceless boots peeking out. Plastic grocery bags brimming over with clothes, cans, and
magazines lie beneath his seats. A blue hair elderly woman and small child hurry in
through the doors dressed in heavy wool coats. The woman pauses, rushes over to the
arrival/departure board, studies it, looks up at the clock, then hurries to the counter.
Treasure Bay is not all gambling and betting for money. You can have a
lot of fun at Treasure Bay on the second floor of the Casino. The Casino has entertainment
around the clock. The entertainment ranged from comedians, magic shows, and a host of
other entertainment. You may see a band which will play a variety of entertainment in the
casino from soul, pop, and country music. Everybody likes show girls who dance to excite
the crows in the Casino's. The girls are special entertainers from Las Vegas who travel
around the country to different Casino's around the world. The comedians are very friendly
to audience at Treasure Bay. They often times go out in the audience and select people to
participate in a special act to show an honest trick. If it is on a night, the comedian or
actor is given a way money. You could win thousands and thousands of dollars.
The branches of the largest of the oaks–which is actually a
cluster of three trees–extend from the north end of the cemetery towards the front
entrance on the east side. The moss-draped limbs of the oak reach down toward the opening,
hovering there and creating a tangled mass which the sunlight filters through like water.
The iron gate marking the east entrance was a gift from the Liberty Independent Troop, the
second oldest volunteer organization in the state of Georgia. It was given to Midway
Church by the squadron to replace the wooden gate that was torn down and burned by General
Sherman's raiders during the War Between the States.
The church itself is really something. I prefer to visit the building
alone because it is an appropriate place for quiet time. I actually feel more spiritual
when I am alone rather than during services because there aren't any distractions. Plus, I
don't run the risk of being caught behind the rope; I can go wherever I please. The cold
silence of the church frightens and comforts me at the same time. From the exterior the
church resembles one that could be found in medieval Europe. The design of the building is
gothic and somehow doesn't seem to fit in with the rest of the old, Southern architecture
found in the historic district. Seated on the corner of the square, the church looks
forbidding with its "crenellated parapet to metal-studded portal." Once inside
it is magical and frightening; glorious and intimidating. Looking at the altar from the
back of the church, red and gold please the senses. It is like looking into the eyes of
royalty.
The sign on the door read, "Push Gently." I nudged the door
on the wooden trim and stepped over the crooked threshold to meet a toothless man with
frizzy white hair hiding behind the counter. He pointed me toward the vending machines in
the back of the tiny box-shaped store when I asked for a Coke. I was scared to buy
anything out of the two machines in the back corner of the store for fear that the
merchandise might be as old as the building, so I made my way out of the side screened
door and back onto sure land.