If I were rich and had no ties, I would study a map of the United States to find where I would put down shallow roots and live for a year. And then do it all again the following year. Perhaps I would settle in New England – land of Norman Rockwell and lobsters. How about the bayou in Louisiana where I could eat gumbo and listen to Dixieland jazz? The Southwest may be interesting. I could live near pueblos and encounter American Indian culture.
When our son was stationed at the Twenty Nine Palms Marine base in California, we visited and took a day trip through Death Valley. Turn to the right or left, look forward or backward, all we saw was dirt. Mountains of dirt; valleys of dirt, plateaus of dirt. Occasionally there would be a house situated in a lot made of dirt. I wondered how people looked around nature’s sandbox and picked one particular spot amid all that dirt to call home.
We arrived at an intersection and pulled into an all-service rest stop. Gas pumps with a convenience store offering fast food and magazines, comprised the usual roadside oasis (without grass) that dot America. As I purchased my can of soda, I asked the cashier if she lived in Death Valley area all her life.
“Oh no. We used to live in Rochester New York.”
“Do you like it here?” I asked, wondering how she could have landed in this place.
“Oh yea!” She sounded enthusiastic.
I couldn’t help asking, “why?”
“It’s rural”
Rural!!?? Lady, you passed rural a long time ago. This is pure desolation.
It’s amazing how adaptable we humans are. We somehow manage not only to exist in extremely, hot, cold, dry, rainy, verdant, arid places, we thrive in them! The other evening my husband was watching The Swamp People on Animal Planet. It featured four fellows who made a living hunting alligators. One hunter sang the praises of life near a swamp; he declared he wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.
Something for everyone in this great country! Wouldn’t it be awesome to make a traveling sampler from the giant quilt called America?
