Wednesday, May 16, 2018

May 16 – “Listing to starboard”


We headed out of town again yesterday.  This time we were bound for a place called Diboll, Texas, to attend the funeral of a friend of many years, Robby Robison.  Thing is, the funeral is not until Thursday.  That gave us two days to get there without getting too lost.  Good thing.

I think it might have started with those crazy stoplights they have around Kemah.  When they turn red, a white light circles around the red part at breakneck speed, flashing like crazy.  I think it might have affected Chris’ sense of direction.  Or maybe the car’s sense of control.  The “check engine soon” light did come on again.  But later it went off.  The transmission started slipping, too.  Things are definitely looking up for a new car in our near future (assuming we make it home, of course).  All I know is, my navigational skills were perfectly intact.  In spite of everything, however, the car just seemed to keep listing to starboard.  No matter what adjustment I tried to make, nothing worked. 

We passed a church somewhere that looked like a huge tent, or a gigantic Hershey’s kiss, or maybe a big old pimple.  Very strange. 

The roadkill variety was astonishing.  Deer, dog, raccoon, coyote, fox, and of course multiple rodentia. 

There was the town of Bleakwood.  The only thing there was the Bleakwood Cemetery.  I wanted Chris to stop so I could take a picture, but she saw someone walking around in there.  That was a bit scary.  Not sure if he was a live resident or … something else.
We went through the Piney Woods.  Not that there was a sign or anything.  There were just piney trees.  Made of wood.

We finally crossed over a bridge and a sign on the other side said we were in Louisiana.  We decided to look for some Creole plantations while we were there.  Not looking for work or anything, but they were on the National Parks registry, so we could get our book stamped.  Three or four times.  If we could find them. 

I laid in a course and Chris followed it faithfully.  Right up until we saw a sign that said the one road we needed to be on was closed 17 miles ahead.  We had to find an alternate without the help of Google Siri.  We discovered there are certain parts of backwoods Louisiana that she simply refuses to frequent.  Our first option looked good, so Chris made the turn.  Onto a dirt road with a sign partially covered by overgrown brush that said, “Dead End.”  I tried to get her to keep going just to see what was at the dead end, but she refused.  We did find a secondary road not too far away that looked considerably safer. 

And we finally limped under an Interstate that was the exact cutoff we needed to get to the first plantation.  I told Chris my shortcuts almost always work out for the best for those willing to follow them.  We did have to tour the plantations backwards, but when have we ever done anything exactly by the book?

What does ATT RMZ LTE mean?  It came up on my phone somewhere in the wilds of Louisiana.  Didn’t last too long, though.

I did have a brief moment of serious indecision as we made our way back to Texas.  We entered a town called Natchitoches.  Now any cursory user of the English language could sound that one out, right?  It was obviously the Louisiana edition of the famed Texas town (where we ended up spending the night, by the way), Nacogdoches, pronounced, of course “Nah-cuh-doe-chess.”  And I know that’s how to spell it because I asked on FaceBook and a fire fighter friend who grew up there told me (Thanks, Jeremy).  I may or may not have argued a Park Ranger over the proper pronunciation.  She insisted that the one in Louisiana was something like “Nekkid dish.”  That’s just ridiculous.  I calmly continued to refer to it as it rightly should be - “Natch-ee-toe-chess.”  What else could it be?  Glad I could be of assistance.

Psalms 62:8 says, “Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.”

Father, thank you for short cuts and road closures and alternate routes.  The kind on road trips, sure, but the kind in life, too.  As long as you take them with us.  Amen.

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