Road Trips
Driving back from New Iberia, Brenda asked me what I got out of the trip. Why
did I feel it necessary to drive over there, if all I did was walk around and then
drive home.
She has never questioned me about whether I need to make a trip,
when I tell her I'm going on a trip.
She teases me about writing I Drive
to Panacea, again and again. But she's never suggested I just stay at home and
write about it instead of going there, if I feel I need to.
She was curious
about the process.
I didn't have a ready answer.
It refreshes the
memory.
One needs to walk the ground, smell the smells, remember how the
weather was, the patterns of the dust. The shadows. There's something je ne
sais quoi about it.
Sometimes I can't do it, and don't.
But if
I can, I do.
It makes me feel like a writer. Being able to do it is important.
If there is no hope, you sink into a desuetude.
Remembering how the National
Trust did Weeks Hall makes me think about how the Florida Division of Cultural Affairs
did me.