KODGER KING GOES SEARCHING FOR HIS KIND----DAY ONE
Wake up here in Fallon--raise my panels to better catch the sun while I go explore the town. I quickly learn that it's a farming/air base town----gateway to the vast emptiness that calls me.
First guy I meet---very attentive it seems to the top, middle and bottom of his costume. I ask about the buckle--hoping for a story-----said he bought it. Ah well!
Saw this in the store window of a child indoctrination center---can you believe it? I went in promising myself to be nice.
This is Patty--chief indoctrinator and proud of it. Does her "work" with after school groups. Teaches kids Biblical literalism and creationism. This is one unit of a nationwide organization. I couldn't resist asking: "Do you wish that all those false religions would stop indoctrinating their kids?" She declined to answer. (have I mentioned elsewhere: I believe that indoctrination is child abuse---like putting a virus in their head)
Next, I wandered into a pawn shop---it was bustling with business--sign of the times? Saw this customer lady with a service dog---I asked how he served----she said that when she is about to derail mentally--the dog senses it and comes bumping into her leg----which helps her snap back.
And on the wall---someone I love---I wondered if these desert folks knew who he was----so I asked the pawnmaster: who is that guy? Imagine my surprise when he said:" Walt Whitman--a great Poet." ( I think I'll give you a small sample of his greatness at the end of this blog entry)
The beginning of the loneliest road---I''m going hundreds of miles thataway---and find the Kodgers that live out there. I promise you!
This grabbed my attention----stopped to get the story---a primo dry salt lake--99 percent plus pure and 70 feet thick---a vast supply of salt mainly used to de-ice roads.
This too--a gigantic sand dune--playground for dunebuggy folks. Free mon, tu, and wed---$40 for the rest of the week. Of some historical note because right here was a pony express station.
Folks out here are proud of their claim to fame.
I camp out of the way---near a quaint old bar--just brimming with codgers.---But that's tomorrow's story. Meanwhile here's a bit of Walt Whitman from my memory banks: (From Song of Myself)
Each man and woman of you, I lead upon a knoll,
My left hand hooks you round the waist,
My right hand points to landscapes of continents---and a plain public road.
Not I or anyone else can travel that road for you.
You must travel it for yourself.
It is not far.... It is within reach.
Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know,
Perhaps it is everywhere, on water and on land.
Shoulder your duds and I will mine and let us hasten forth;
Wonderful cities and free nations we shall fetch as we go.
If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest your hand on my hip.
In due time you shall repay the same service for me;
for after we start, we never lie by again.
Long enough have you dreamed contemptible dreams,
Now I wash the gum from your eyes;
You must habit yourselves to the dazzle of the light and of every moment of your life.
Long have you timidly waded, holding a plank by the shore.
Now I will you to be a bold swimmer,
To jump off in the midst of the sea, and rise again and nod to me
and shout, and laughingly dash with your hair.