Saturday, October 23, 2010

Little Rockin'

So, after a long and arduous journey from Newark to Charlotte to Dallas to Little Rock, I arrived at the Arkansas State Fair Complex. I would be calling the RV site my home for the next 11 days.

You can take the girl out of Nova Scotia...
The set up of the area was like this: at the front were the entry gates, the fair grounds, an arena and the hall of industry; in the middle were stables, equestrian arenas, and some other barns and stuff for smaller animals like goats and bunnies and sheep; at the back was where the RV park and overflow parking was located.

Now that you've got the area visualized, consider this: I'm sleeping in a tent about 500 feet away from the stables. This means every night, without fail,  I'm lulled to sleep by the poor, desperate cries of one or more belligerent cows.

See my tent squished in between the two trailers? Go me!
But between being the sounding board for said bovine(s), there was a lot to be done, learned, seen and experienced. As I mentioned before, I came down to the south to meet up with my dear ol' Dad and step-mom, Lorraine, and to help them around the trailer and at the trade shows, in return for my room and board.

So, I arrive at the RV park and everything is already set up because they arrived a day earlier. Win! The next day is training day, though, so that means learning all that I can about liquid glycerin filled insoles, and learning the ropes when it comes to sales and fittings of the insoles, since I've never had a retail job in my life. I think I caught on pretty quickly, and by the third day or so I was wranglin' them in and slingin' insoles like it was high-noon in Orthopediville!

When I wasn't at the booth, which was more often than not, I managed to pass the time talking with Lorraine and Dad, running errands, cooking and tidying around the trailer, strolling around the fairgrounds, taking pictures, and trying to plan the next couple of weeks on the road. I got to check out the William J. Clinton Presidential Library, which was a lot cooler than it sounds and definitely made me realize, despite the misstep in his private life, that Billy boy was actually a pretty stellar President and a totally good human being - the latter of which is harder to come by in world leaders these days. After checkin' out all of Billy's relics, my Dad and I headed down to River Market (similar to Halifax's Spring Garden/waterfront, or Edmonton's Whyte Ave). We grabbed a coffee and some Louisiana Gumbo (which I recommend independently, but not as part of a team), and strolled across this really amazing pedestrian bridge that was made from an old elevating train bridge (to let boats underneath). When the bridge rusted in its up position, they just decided to add an elevator, paint it, and turn it into a cool pedestrian bridge instead!

Pedestrian bridge in Little Rock
Slingin' insoles isn't exactly my passion, but the hours I clocked at the booth and on the road let me see just how hard my Dad and step-mom work to make ends meet. The average two-week period goes something like this:

Day 1: drive to next location
Day 2: set up booth
Day 3 to 13: work 6 to 12 hour days taking off peoples' shoes and fitting them for massaging insoles.
Day 14: take down booth.
Repeat.

This might not seem that exhausting to most people my age, and not to nix my Dad and Lorraine's age, but it's a lot harder once you've entered, your... well, more mature years... and the long days, far drives, and little rest can begin to take their toll. I also never thought I would want to work alongside my partner/spouse, so I've got mad respect for them both for taking on the challenge of a bad situation (the real estate market crash in Florida) and making the most of it, when ever possible, even if the current situation only exists out of necessity.

Whether by choice or necessity, spending the time at the booth with my Dad and Lorraine has taught me a lot, and not just about liquid glycerin filled insoles. I don't think I've reflected enough on it to even be able to tell you how, or what lessons I've learned; at least not in any succinct, understandable terms, so I'll have to get back to you on that, but I think I'm becoming more of a whole person. If that makes any sense to anyone but me.

But, I can definitely conclude that I've come to have a greater understanding of the southern folk whom we so seldom see north of the border. The people of Arkansas did feed into a lot of the stereotypes we see on television: the drawl, the lack of dental hygiene, the love of the Lord and of guns. Fortunately though, just like I was hoping, I also was reminded that there is a common thread among us all and that's our common humanity (so graciously pointed out to me during my visit to the Presidential Library, in the State of the Union address made by former President Bill Clinton). The rest that we see is just poppycock, superficial, unimportant. What really matters is having respect for each other, regardless of dialect, dentistry, or religious disposition (or any variety of other things). Everyone out there is just trying to find their happy, myself included, and how each of them are getting there is of no place for my judgement or prejudice. In the wise words of the Grateful Dead, "That path is for your steps alone."

Sunset at the RV Park near the Mississippi
All in all, despite the belligerent cows, toothless wonders, and coming to the realization that the real epidemic in America is poor foot-hygiene, Little Rock State Fair and the Arkansas area in general were charming little spots, with super friendly folk, lush foliage, and a sweet southern drawl.

And the rest of the south that I got to experience wasn't any different really. Arkansas, Mississippi and Alabama. The scenery was picturesque: from run-down shanties and barns crawling with vines, to fields of raw cotton, to the mighty Mississippi River, to the Mobile, Alabama skyline.

The most beautiful, and most depressing things of my trip so far were both witnessed in the exact same place near Wilmer, Alabama, in the exact same RV park, on the exact same river bank.

Beautiful, white sand beach.


Dirty, iridescent oil slick.


With the Gulf of Mexico oil spill out of the news it's easy to forget what a catastrophe it was (is). Now, in the US, election news is more important than the Gulf disaster (so last spring, duh!), and since the majority of the oil in visible places (read: tourist areas) have been cleaned up, the majority of people probably believe, or would like to believe, that everything is in its right place, all is well in the world (okay - that's the taking it a bit far, but you get the idea).

Well, on this beautiful little white-sand river in Alabama, which was not even a few feet deep in the middle, there were oil smears in the sand. The depth of the river, or lack thereof, makes it irrational and illogical for the oil to be from boating or any other recreational activity involving gas-powered water-anything.

There's only one answer.

And there you have it folks. Months later. Miles upstream. Away from prying eyes and the media and the electoral campaign. Oil. It was a sad realization for me. My heart hurts for all of the unseen rivers and streams and animals that were too far away from capitalist ventures to receive any attention or sympathy. Another one bites the dust.

Yet, as much as my heart hurt I was reminded of the strength of nature and the beauty still that can exist, even after such a catastrophe. And I'm reminded that the same can come of people, too. I hope for the best for the future of the human race, perhaps out of naivety, or because that little voice deep down that knows that there are still good people out there, and if we could just get together and remind everyone else why it's good to be good, maybe, just maybe, we'd see a change for the better.

Then I see what's on TV and I immediately lose hope again. It's a constant battle and all I can do is my best in this life. The only thing I can count on is me, doing my part, to promote equality and respect and kindness. So I'll go out into the world and acknowledge it, whether or not I agree with it, and try to see the beauty and potential in everyone and everything. It might not be much, but it's all there really is. The world is an amazing place and strange things can happen, if we let them.

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