Meditations and personification

Yesterday I drove from Jamestown to Ellendale, Ashley (pronounces Esh-leh to some), made a pit stop in Steele, then headed to Bismarck, Robinson and then passed through Pettibone and back to Jimtown forming an impressive central North Dakota highway loop.

I always have to drive through Woodworth and Pettibone while navigating the Carefree Highway known as 36, especially when I'm on my way to my grandparents. My grandpa is from that neck of the woods and likes to hear reports of any changes. I didn't make it through Woodworth but there were no traces of activity save for the two dozen deer calmly wandering the main drag. Almost as if they were trying to figure out what to do after bar close. I imagine instead of any carriages turning into pumpkins the locals turned into deer once the watering hole closed.

Sounds like the only logical conclusion and sound basis of a riveting fairy tale involving a dishonorable hunter and a spiteful prairie spirit. I might have to file that one away in the old memory bank.

My friend Bill and I were driving that stretch of highway late one night returning to Robinson from Bismarck--our pals' band Lost Horses were playing at Laughing Sun. One must always be on the lookout for critters on Highway 36--especially at night, whether they be deer, fox, skunks, raccoons, owls, sasquatches etc. That particular evening there were about half a dozen deer standing with the classic deer in the headlights look they're known for. Wobbly legged with indecision on whether or not they should go kamikaze and run in front of his vehicle or not.

Thankfully they stayed put.

It seemed like the perfect parallel to the wildlife on Broadway on any given weekend but replace the deer with a gaggle of dumb college girls in high heels that they don't know how to maneuver. I prefer the carefree highway and the naivete of the deer. They're far less irritating, much more graceful and are far less insecure.

I personify wildlife quite a bit when I'm on the road. It's no secret that I have a Snow White Complex. Anyway I either assign personalities to the wildlife or else I make up stupid songs to sing to myself--laughing like a madman because I think I'm hilarious. Why else would I travel alone? It's enough to drive a co-pilot to drink and or abandon ship. Let's be realistic..I annoy myself. Subjecting another to that in an enclosed space is just cruel.

I find metaphors that inform and inspire my work, my drives are like a meditation I try to find wisdom in the prairie grasses. I drove past two big tumbleweeds rolling through a field off Highway 10 last fall. They must have gotten swooped up in a dust devil because they looked like they were in the middle of a dance. One circled the other but never disrupted it's path. it was like an impromptu ballet where they switched and shared the lead.

On particularly cold days I imagine what's on the Canadian goose's mind when they return to the north country to find the snow, ice, and cold that they had left months before. Substituting their webbed flippers for snow shoes as they navigate the tundra. For some reason I envision them wearing ear muffs as they trudge across the frozen slough and I wonder if any of the "Honks" uttered are goose swears.

Or are they like us grinning and bearing it like a good North Dakotan? I imagine it would be tough for a goose to grin with the way their bills are shaped...so they remain stoic (like a good North Dakotan). No wonder they keep coming back--they can't help themselves.

I was down and out and heartbroken one winter and I envied the geese because they mate for life. Watching them waddle in pairs on the frozen slough fed my loneliness for some reason.. I'd see them on the side of the road near Hobart Lake on the Stutsman/Barnes county line hoping to Christ that I wouldn't hit one. There's nothing more heartbreaking than seeing a goose stand roadside lamenting their dead mate.

I eventually wised up and realized that I dodged a bullet or rather maybe the bullet dodged me. It's crazy to think about the weird thoughts and triggers that jog your imagination.

I still find pairs of fowl endearing but I wouldn't make a good goose--I make a way better tumbleweed as long as I can avoid the hangups of metaphorical barbed wire fences. and avoid the scorn of spiteful prairie spirits.

Though I think I'd be on their good side--at least that's what I'm aiming for.