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-----Original Message-----
From: [log in to unmask] [mailto:[log in to unmask]]
Sent: Tuesday, May 31, 2005 9:43 AM
To: Becker, Dan
Subject: Re: Problem processing mail file from [log in to unmask]
La croix Vrai
(the true cross )
The True Cross
The Natchez trace is as old as time. Once a migratory path for the
Mastodon and the three toed sloth . this Trans regional highway is now
circuitous route for sportsmen , tourists, and pilgrims of the faith
who believe that there are roads for nature just as there are for
commerce and progress . .
This road is completely without the signage and the trappings of
civilization ;.
and that is precisely why I prefer to travel it every chance I get .
Once upon it , I can set my car on cruise control to the obligatory 50
mph or less , tune in some Delta blues and watch the world go by in
the bucolic scenery of the forest and hill country of rural
Mississippi. .
Here there is no stop and go traffic.
No lights, no clover leafs ,no commercial trucks , fast food signs
or gas stops . In fact there is hardly any signs telling you where you
are and that is just perfect for my wanderlust .,., .
No ,here only slowpokes are allowed and the only tailgating to be
found are the deer and wild turkey that feed by the road side...
.
This famous route flows through the entire length of the state and
harbors a safe zone for all wildlife not to mention bicyclists who
migrate here from all over the globe to enjoy the freedom ,and beauty
of its open road
They like the hikers and horsemen that join them share in the value of
such park like passage as a national treasure, a heritage if you will,
given to them from a generation now long past who manifested the
rights of this road during the depths of the depression as something
else they could show the world besides a medieval reputation over race
and religion . .
In prehistoric times it was an migratory animal trail, followed by the
aboriginals and later the fur traders that dealt in the commerce of the
woodland culture that made their home here .
.A national path from the Carolinas to Natchez where once you arrived
, it became a somewhat easy float down the Mississippi to New Orleans
and the shores of the Gulf . . . A route infamous for pirates and
brigands ,horse thieves and gypsy merchants of every race and color
who followed the migratory path of the frontiersmen then traders then
settlers; stopping off at watering holes and trade posts with names
like Pigeons roost , Monroe Mission ,Witches Dance, French Camp and
Emerald mound .
Few roads from early America exist such as this one .
One with a history of stories worthy of telling and retelling about
the expansion of what was then the west and the migration of newly
arrived peoples to what was then known as the Louisiana Purchase . .
It seems like every time I travel the Trace I experience something
new
. Once there was a bicycle rider atop an 1890's big wheel, little wheel
bike, that took a step ladder to get on board . He managed 20 miles a
day and his only real challenge was getting down from it .
Another vehicle I recall was a home made Stanley steamer rolling
along at a record breaking 35 mph puffing away with the pedal to the
metal. Then there was the time I saw a hybrid solar car. This
contraption of plastic and bailing wire hummed along with its driver at
a whopping 48 mph.(on a sunny day that is)
The Natchez Trace seems to be a magnet for the unusual and that is
because it is the most protected ,safe, unencumbered road I know to
try out any mode of transportation (including two feet ) that doesn't
ex cell 50 mph.. .
Here one can always expect the unexpected ,. and so I was not
disappointed when over the memorial day I passed a man in white
robes wearing a crown of thorns navigating a huge cross upon his
shoulder, and making his way down the bike path of the highway.
" Woa" am I seeing this ?
Since there are many who profess to be cross bearers in this life , I
will cut to the quick and say this is the first time I have actually
ever saw one let alone meet one and thinking it might be my only
chance at real salvation, I asked myself "Why not" , take a chance,
....stop and offer what assistance I could.; after all aren't we all
pilgrims on the path ?
Well more on that later .
The fact is normally I do not stop for strangers.
But since he was such a familiar figure in the historic sence , I
decided in good faith that the value of being a good Samaritan might
resonate with him and well you know after all if I can't score with
him with acts of kindness who can I score with .
I had to take a chance , Besides my attendance record for Sunday
services has been spotty , and I have been having a lot of indecent
sexual thoughts over a Playboy I keep in the small room so if ever
there was a chance to make amends then this was it .
"Strike while the iron is hot" my teacher always said , or was that my
girlfriend ? Hmmm....Never mind
I nudged my wagon off to the side of the road and waited for my
cross-bearer to catch up . This gave me time to think about what I'm
actually doing . Lone men wearing robes and thorns in the forest can be
trouble so I checked to see if the Billy club was still under the front
seat .. It was .
Comforted that we were at least on equal terms as far as life on the
physical was concerned ,
I then began thinking of what I might say to him once he arrived . ..
"Hey bub need a lift ? "just wasn't going to make it Besides what if he
was for real? Stranger things have happened here on the Trace ..
I mean here I am in the middle of no where , Big Foot country surrounded
by a sundry population who believe in walk ins and UFOs speaking in
country accents,eating grits ,collards and corn bread and waiting for
HIM all the time , and ...well ....here He is ,
The very thought that it might be HIM was a distinct possibility
And who could say for sure?
So I began searching my brain for appropriate greetings . First that
came to mind was something confessional.... "Forgive me father ,for I
have sinned " but I canned that because I didn't want to show all my
cards at once .
Then came a little something more gentle from the Beatitudes ....
"Blessed are the Greeks , for they shall"...
..no...no you Bozo that wasn't it either ....
Why is it when you meet famous people you can never think of something
to say ?.... . "Counselor , forgive me .. I err ...rest my case"
I was still fishing around for a proper greeting when he arrived
bearing his cross and perspiring in the noon day heat .
His cross looked like a lot to bear ,
I had seen something similar to it at the San Gernarno festival in
little Italy NYC on the saints feast day but that one had a lot of
dollars pinned to it and it was carried by 8 gorillas in tuxedos.
No this one was bigger but there was something different about it .
"Thanks for stopping brother" ,he said almost bashfully handing me a
small pamphlet while catching his breath .
I felt as if I had been given one of those pamphlets you get outside the
subway , only instead of saying Vote Today or eat here in Chinese it
was an advertisement of his church asking me if Id been Saved , with
his preachers phone number hand written in the page corner as the
old one that was printed wasn't any good..
Dumbstruck I perused the information as if it were the spread sheet
sad for the 5th race .
I was sad yet somewhat relieved I had met Santa's helper rather than
Santa himself .
You know that feeling when you go into meetings unprepared . I mean
this might be the biggest client of your whole career, the guy who is
going to carry you over for an eternity . The golden parachute and your
going to blow it not being prepared? Not so fast Buster I thought to
myself . I gotta do my homework;. I want to be sure I know all the
genuflections , creeds and buzz words not seen the Mel Gibson movie.
I wanna know for sure .
Admittedly I am petrified of being blessed ,saved ,and healed all at
once.
Its like signing up for the six pack abs at the training Gym , you
gotta die to get there.. Besides being saved I wouldn't recognize
myself, and nobody in my old neighborhood would know me ..
Not sure of anything I blurted out the first thing that came to
mind..
"Nice thorns ".... I said breaking the ice and admiring the cheap,
plastic rubber tipped wreath that encased his head . "Oh yeah " he
commented removing them from his brow and wiping off the sweat with the
cuff of his robe .
Since the thorns were the kind suitable for traveling I guess he
brushed off the compliment off like it was no big thing.
But more than that , his movement of the robe afforded me the odd
chance to peek inside his robe which revealed not the saintly
stigmata I had hoped for but a pair of very skinny pale white legs
held up by a pair of bright Bermuda shorts topped by a immigrant tee
shirt with Nascar logos .
I have seen a lot in this world . People and places that make the mid
east look like a resort area.,but this was one of those times I had to
pinch myself . The shorts of course did nothing for his persona , or
my impression of him ,but at least I could tell he wasn't armed, so at
least that hurdle was over .
His sandals are what got me , They were impressive.
. No wandering in the desert on hush puppy's for this disciple ,
What adorned those unwashed feet were a pair of high tech
Birkenstocks capable of the Shell torture test from Morocco to Dakar.
.
"Been traveling far ? " I asked... eyeing the sandals as if they were
spinner hubs
. .
"Oh about 4 days " He responded politely trying to shift gears to my
salvation . .
I wasn't giving up easy,, playing 3 card monte on the streets of New
York can fend off the best of them
"4 days ? Where do you sleep " I asked hiding the queen again from his
agenda.
His eyes brightened ...and with that he got excited
Without saying a word he whirled his huge cross effortlessly from the
padded shoulder harness to a standing position by the roadside . And as
a pair of lazy hawks circled overhead ,he spun the cross like it was a
base fiddle for Duke Ellington during the finale of "Taking the A train
".
The cross spun , and as it did so he began opening a series of
hidden panel doors revealing a design so compartmentalized that it was
scarcely hard to believe .
Inside the stations of the cross he had fabricated a series of storage
compartments worthy of an east German spy.
. It revealed a pantry of goods and survival gear to keep him dry and
fed for a month .. No rabbits out of a hat ,no ladies sawn in half .Just
expert workmanship .
The cross itself was a marvel in camouflage . Constructed of fire
rated Styrofoam flashing that was laminated one upon the other by high
strength glues . It appeared as solid wood ,yet inside lay a ca she of
M- Rations ,sterno cans ,underwear ,tee shirts , to one side while
another held a tarp , tent poles, and mosquito netting while still
another held the water and cold drinks with a little side pockets for a
Walkman and c ds of ZZ top and Charlie Daniels and a pull of tobacco..
.
Not since the six days has there ever been such a creation
Like a quiz master he move through each of the doors enticing me
the contestant with some other clever device he had fabricated for
his journey .
"Wow " I uttered in disbelief
"You made all that"
The comfort bar in a Holiday Inn express could not have done better
..
the faux bois (false wood ) was perfect.. The whole base was supported
on high grade swivel wheels made of hard rubber .
The ball bearings allowed for the spin of the cross .
"Yas suh " he responded with pride "
"It took some doing , altogether on and off about a month" he said
opening and closing all the cabinets .reveling other little cubby holes
for toilet paper toothbrush, mouth wash, pen and paper and of course
the Good Book with all his pamphlets and phone numbers so organized and
accounted for that one would think he was running numbers for Charlie
Lucky . . . I was impressed.. ; I felt he was a gifted craftsman and
that we finally had something besides the inevitable to talk about .
I offered him a ride to the next stop which was about an hour of
getting to know one another
So we loaded him up with the cross sticking half out the window and
proceeded down the highway engaging in animated talk about who was
saved and who wasn't ..
He wearing his crown and the both of us listening to Robert Johnson
banging back a couple of cold Yoo Hoos from what was for me , dare I
say it? ....the True Cross . Py
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