MUSIC FOR THE SOUL

“Alas for those who never sing, but die with all their music in them.” ~ Oliver Wendell Holmes

Each morning as I climbed into the car music would start scrambling around in my mind.  I could not start my day without picking out a collection of music for the day and let the sound waves soothe my soul.  Even with the music off, I would continue to hear tunes playing in my imagination.  It’s a natural high with every window to my soul open to new experiences.  That’s my corn for the day. 

I’ve just arrived in the quiet town of Greenwood outside of Omaha.  They, too, have a pool that I enjoyed all by myself.  I guess it’s too hot for most folks to be out and about, but worst of all, I did not have anyone to talk to and that will never do!

July 17^th:   This morning I stepped outside the camper at dawn in my respectable pjs to let Molly do her not so respectable routine and we were both startled by the lady next door doing the same thing in her semi respectable nightgown.  The dogs were racing for the same spot (and they say humans are competitive!).  The lady was 72 and travelling alone with her pooch.  Neither of us had heard of a single woman camping alone so we sat at the picnic table to share experiences over our coffees and wrote about our meeting, and yes, she was journaling also.  Maybe she cheated a bit because she eventually shared that she was camping with her son and his family in a nearby site and lived just 5 miles down the road.  No matter, it was camaraderie just the same.  This was the first of many camping encounters with generous and caring people.

Off to Ogallala, Nebraska.  It took more than a day for me to cross Nebraska.  As a result of too many corn fields, my thoughts were becoming random and unrelated:  (1) Did the IRS overlook a tax opportunity?  What if you transport poop across state lines in your RV?  Sounds like a taxable item to me.  (2) Why, after 3 days of driving are there no gooshy, grimy bug guts on my windshield?

Temperature hit 100 degrees and climbing.  No more corn fields, please!  I pulled into an RV park in Ogallala to find the same neighbors that were across from me in Greenwood.  They were heading to a town near Estes Park, CO where I was headed.  Talk about a coincidence!  All of a sudden a hail storm descended and Molly and I scurried for shelter.  No one else scurried – it was the first rain since mid June in this area and folks were literally dancing in the streets.

The Midwest has an undeniably flat landscape.  It also has an endless blue sky that appears sculpted with elongated, smooth clouds in constant slow movement.  You think you can see forever and you can.  I also thought about the pioneers crossing this land in covered wagons and the sacrifices they made.  I’m traveling with every convenience known to man and I can’t phantom how the pioneers did it.  Speaking of sacrifices, that pool looks very inviting.  It’s 7:30 PM  and still in the eighties.  My wet swim suit soon feels divine when engulfed by the warm breezes wrapped about me like a cocoon.  The ice cream helped to cool my insides but Molly licked most of it.  She thinks I did not notice. You mean I’m busted?