Travels, Part I

I’ve been around—Texas was the purgatory I kept ending up in—San Angelo twice and San Antonio once. I don’t like Texas. Too many Texans who mix inappropriate things like big trucks, guns, and open cans of alcohol on the road. My dog Burt was a pup and we were playing on the floor when I saw him. He swaggered down the hall like he owned the place with his stylish eye patch, pirate hat, and scarab…this was my first but not my last epic battle with the notorious Scorpion gang. To protect my puppy, I leapt into action and launched a box of detergent at the Scorpion. Fellow gang members decided to retaliate after the very well-attended Scorpion funeral by showing up in the shower with me, intimidating me by crawling on the ceiling over my bed, and joining my foot inside my shoe—somehow, I was never stung. After multiple attacks by fire ants and killing the rattler in the backyard with a shovel (after donning combat boots and BDU pants), I put in for a long tour overseas.

 

I used to live on the top of a mountain in Germany. The green of the grass and the blue of the sky was incredibly vivid this particular summer. I would trek through the woods with my dogs until I reached this big, beautiful, grassy meadow. Then, I’d let the dogs off their leash, and do my Maria von Trapp impression, twirling around singing “Climb Every Mountain,” the dogs yapping at me because obviously, I was crazed. This was a regular routine until the day I saw the German soldiers standing there staring at me. Apparently, they didn’t want to play the rest of the von Trapp kids and join me in song, based on their gape-mouthed expressions, so the dogs and I scurried back into the woods.

 

Rural Ohio had a lot going for it. Close families, solid family values, and only about 10 surnames in a town of 1,200. Interesting folks there, for sure. I bought an old 2-story downtown. It used to be the town doc’s house. I’d find folks out on the sidewalk, just standing there, staring into the large windows. They’d overtake my porch for parades (yes, they had parades, and lots of them). Strangers would use the play area in the backyard as a public park and the driveway parking was the overflow parking for Ziggy’s, the bar across the street. I literally could do nothing without everyone knowing about it. So, I put up a fence. Then the rumor started that I must be from “Cal-i-forn-i-a.” I love the fact that unlike the Amish in Iowa who don’t drive or drink, the Amish guys in this area always seemed to be ahead of me in line at the local convenience store, buying gallons of Wild Turkey and driving cool trucks, saying things like, “Abel, shall thee and thou go do some shots?” I tried to fit in and got accepted into the “Historical Society.” I immediately resigned knowing they’d have me for a member.

 

I’ve left out Massachusetts, Iowa, Missouri, Nebraska, and another part of Germany, as well as temporary duty assignments, but I’ll probably continue to ramble until I get focused back on this blogging project, so hang in there.

 

Americans who travel abroad for the first time are often shocked to discover that, despite all the progress that has been made in the last 30 years, many foreign people still speak in foreign languages. ~ Dave Berry

 Published on: Mar 23, 2006