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Published On: Apr 26, 2006 10:02 PM
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Published On: Apr 26, 2006 10:02 PM
On My Way Home
Greetings from Jackson, Mississippi. Famed town
of country songs about getting thrown in prison and such. I find myself heading
back toward Kentucky. It's past time. After all, I leave for Korea this coming
Sunday.
So let's bring ya'll up to speed. From Carlsbad New Mexico, I struck out into that huge span of land known as Texas. Landed in San Antonio for a night, and headed on to Corpus Christi, where I was fantastically hosted by Boars Heart until I left there on.... Friday. Yeah, that's it. :)
While I was in Corpus I got Boar up to speed on OS X, so that he can appreciate the newest, the greatest, and everything else that comes with it on his iMac. It survived the experience, which was slightly iffy for a few moments. We also did a lot of talking, went gun shopping, headed out to a bar one night....
and the last night I was there we had an amazing blot and sumbel. I've never bloted specifically to Freyr before, and it was both moving and meaningful. Had a shivery moment at the end; as BH closed the blot, the candle on his altar extinguished itself. This was followed by our sumbel, but as I've always felt that a sumbel is rather private among the participants, I'm not going to give any details on that. Sorry, guys. :)
So after that week of.... fleshing out a previously electronic friendship, I headed back north, through Texas. It occurs to me that this was really the first time I'd really driven north for any period of time on Asatour. Stopped for the night in Beaumont Texas, and the next day crossed most of the state of Louisiana to wind up in New Orleans. Yep, the big and easy one ended up in the Big Easy (that's a joke, son).
I was tired, so I just hung out in my room (once I found a hotel with space, which, on a Saturday afternoon near the French Quarter ain't easy) that evening, only heading out to grab something to eat. The next day I explored the French Quarter.
OK, actually, the next 3 days I explored the French Quarter. The first day I wandered through the quarter, meandered through the French Market, and went to sit on the River walk. Hard to believe that the same river that flows past one of my old homes in Wickliffe Kentucky is the same one that flows through New Orleans. Just amazing.
So I'm sitting there, enjoying the river, when I see a man stumbling and limping along the walk toward me. He was only moving one side of his body well, and my first thought was "Oh shit, he's having a stroke." I was relieved when he sat down next to me and began a conversation.
In spite of his fairly nice clothes and short hair, it turned out he was homeless. He had moved down to New Orleans for a job waiting tables. One of the first days he was there, he was hit by a drunk driver, breaking both legs and damaging his lower spine (causing nerve damage).
He was bitter. Hel, who wouldn't be? In the past year he'd had 8 surgeries. Number 9 was scheduled for Friday, in which one leg was to be amputated, and surgery number 10 was supposed to be later in the year, to put iron rods in his back. Problem was that the police tend to throw vagrants in jail, for at least 10 days at a stretch, and he was afraid he would end up back in there.
Let me make one thing clear. First off, I am a sucker for homeless people. I don't care what brought them to the state they're in. I would in general rather find some safe way to help them, such as buying them food, rather than giving them money which can be used on booze or drugs, but honestly? If they feel that the booze or drugs are more important, then more power to them. I haven't been there, and I'm not going to sit in moral judgment over them about it.
Second thing to make clear: this man wasn't faking. I saw his horribly swollen gangrenous leg, and there was no doubt in my mind that the surgery BETTER be real, because he was losing that leg soon one way or the other. I saw the nerve twitch when he tried to put weight on his left arm.
Yep, I gave him money. The amount's no one's business but his and mine. Maybe he'll be able to make it to Friday without getting arrested.
Anyway, I want to wrap this up. I went on a ghost tour, which was ok because of the historical information. I also met another Asatruar named John, who does readings in Jackson Square. We had an interesting conversation about things religious and otherwise.
This evening I headed out and wound up here in Jackson. And oof. It's 1:10 in the morning. I'm going to bed, guys.
P.S. Pictures from Carlsbad Caverns are now up in the galleries. Enjoy!
So let's bring ya'll up to speed. From Carlsbad New Mexico, I struck out into that huge span of land known as Texas. Landed in San Antonio for a night, and headed on to Corpus Christi, where I was fantastically hosted by Boars Heart until I left there on.... Friday. Yeah, that's it. :)
While I was in Corpus I got Boar up to speed on OS X, so that he can appreciate the newest, the greatest, and everything else that comes with it on his iMac. It survived the experience, which was slightly iffy for a few moments. We also did a lot of talking, went gun shopping, headed out to a bar one night....
and the last night I was there we had an amazing blot and sumbel. I've never bloted specifically to Freyr before, and it was both moving and meaningful. Had a shivery moment at the end; as BH closed the blot, the candle on his altar extinguished itself. This was followed by our sumbel, but as I've always felt that a sumbel is rather private among the participants, I'm not going to give any details on that. Sorry, guys. :)
So after that week of.... fleshing out a previously electronic friendship, I headed back north, through Texas. It occurs to me that this was really the first time I'd really driven north for any period of time on Asatour. Stopped for the night in Beaumont Texas, and the next day crossed most of the state of Louisiana to wind up in New Orleans. Yep, the big and easy one ended up in the Big Easy (that's a joke, son).
I was tired, so I just hung out in my room (once I found a hotel with space, which, on a Saturday afternoon near the French Quarter ain't easy) that evening, only heading out to grab something to eat. The next day I explored the French Quarter.
OK, actually, the next 3 days I explored the French Quarter. The first day I wandered through the quarter, meandered through the French Market, and went to sit on the River walk. Hard to believe that the same river that flows past one of my old homes in Wickliffe Kentucky is the same one that flows through New Orleans. Just amazing.
So I'm sitting there, enjoying the river, when I see a man stumbling and limping along the walk toward me. He was only moving one side of his body well, and my first thought was "Oh shit, he's having a stroke." I was relieved when he sat down next to me and began a conversation.
In spite of his fairly nice clothes and short hair, it turned out he was homeless. He had moved down to New Orleans for a job waiting tables. One of the first days he was there, he was hit by a drunk driver, breaking both legs and damaging his lower spine (causing nerve damage).
He was bitter. Hel, who wouldn't be? In the past year he'd had 8 surgeries. Number 9 was scheduled for Friday, in which one leg was to be amputated, and surgery number 10 was supposed to be later in the year, to put iron rods in his back. Problem was that the police tend to throw vagrants in jail, for at least 10 days at a stretch, and he was afraid he would end up back in there.
Let me make one thing clear. First off, I am a sucker for homeless people. I don't care what brought them to the state they're in. I would in general rather find some safe way to help them, such as buying them food, rather than giving them money which can be used on booze or drugs, but honestly? If they feel that the booze or drugs are more important, then more power to them. I haven't been there, and I'm not going to sit in moral judgment over them about it.
Second thing to make clear: this man wasn't faking. I saw his horribly swollen gangrenous leg, and there was no doubt in my mind that the surgery BETTER be real, because he was losing that leg soon one way or the other. I saw the nerve twitch when he tried to put weight on his left arm.
Yep, I gave him money. The amount's no one's business but his and mine. Maybe he'll be able to make it to Friday without getting arrested.
Anyway, I want to wrap this up. I went on a ghost tour, which was ok because of the historical information. I also met another Asatruar named John, who does readings in Jackson Square. We had an interesting conversation about things religious and otherwise.
This evening I headed out and wound up here in Jackson. And oof. It's 1:10 in the morning. I'm going to bed, guys.
P.S. Pictures from Carlsbad Caverns are now up in the galleries. Enjoy!
Posted: Tue - July 20, 2004 at 03:11 PM