Assuring friends, neighbors and readers repeatedly that I’m doing well these days brings to mind the old story of Silas Yoder, injured when he and his horse were struck by a car at a rural intersection.
In the crash, he was thrown from the buggy. His horse was knocked into the ditch. Yoder’s leg was broken and he was afraid to move. He could hear his horse groaning and thrashing, obviously in bad shape.
When a police officer arrived at the scene, he first noticed the horse.
“Looks like she has a broken leg,” he said, promptly pulling his revolver and putting her out of her misery. He then walked over to where Yoder was lying.
“How are you doing?” the officer inquired.
Yoder, suffering from the same injury as the now-lifeless mare, immediately declared,
“I’m fine!”
At long last, my days are filled with the kind of peace I’d nearly forgotten exists. I carry no burdens of my own making, nor do I bend under the weight of others.
There is uncertainty, but it doesn’t define me.
The Mountain soothes. Coyotes. Sunsets. Fawns. Nightjars. Butterflies. Fresh, sparkling air. This place is free of artifice, superficiality and deceit.
Beyond these woods is an American culture of goodness, more genuine than anywhere I’ve ever lived. Recently, when I’ve chosen to speak to a local about my current circumstance — the waitress at my favorite restaurant, for example, or the young man working the yard at the hardware store — the warmth with which I’m received is remarkable.
They’ve taken me in. I belong.
As the Ozarkansas population is sparse and scattered, so, too, is my circle of friends. They’re uncounted. Keeping score isn’t The Way of Things here, or with me.
I’m purging that which no longer serves me. There’s no rush. As I encounter what doesn’t belong, I eliminate it.
I do so without sentiment or second thought.
One thing that doesn’t require sanitizing is my store of memories. Standing on the shore of Kintla Lake at the completion of my quest. The first light of Dawn caressing the prairie. Incomparable music and energy at dozens of concerts. Great meals. A job well done.
That includes the motorhome odyssey four years ago, which I chronicled here, and The Mountain itself. I’ve found myself not using “we,” “our” or “us” much anymore when talking about the last 20 years. It’s not even a conscious thing.
See, I experienced everything during that time with my own senses. I claim the memories for myself.
Too soon?
Not soon enough.
“You are not alone.”
Lots of folks have said that to me lately. It’s a comfort knowing that I’m not the first to have traveled this road.
It comes from men, mostly, although I’ve heard it from a surprising number of women whose allegiance I’d expect to be elsewhere, and it isn’t. (I confess to snickering at their sharp-tongued messages.)
My contribution to “you are not alone” is these blog posts.
When you get to feeling like you’re the only one who’s dealt with a certain difficulty, predicament, illness, or agony, it’s because those who went before you kept it quiet. They struggled in the dark.
That’s what I did 27 years ago. Not this time.
If you think it’s nothing but drama — and unnecessary drama at that — then please, by all means, kiss my ass.
I hope that tracing my experience here will help others, especially good and devoted men who bust their asses for years and are dusted anyway.
You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are not alone.
Work in the cabin resumed early this morning. Around 9am, I had to leave my neighbor on The Mountain and head for Yellville.
That’s because yesterday afternoon, the bank called me to say that the joint checking account, which I’ve used only a handful of times in two-plus years, was overdrawn by $85. (It wasn’t me.) I stopped in today to restore its balance to zero.
That won’t happen again.
Later, I ran back to town and picked up a few items at Miller Hardware. Seems it’s always somethin’.
We made big strides today. We’ll continue from there tomorrow.
I’ve never seen The Mountain more beautiful than it is today.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable