2001-01-29 - 19:31 MST

January 29. 2001

The Nomad

I'm a poor, weary, wandering stranger in a long ago forgotten world of things Route 66.

Bonnie in her entry today Has given out with some of the sights of former days and a link to sights seen along route 66 back when. I have spent more time than I really should with e-mail stacked in a circling pattern around my keyboard.

Neon signs, when did they die out ? They made things so cheerful, even when I could hear the sputtering and flickering of a sign in trouble the feeling of being welcomed was there. All the different colors, used in magical ways, were an enchanting lure to the land of night time businesses.

There was a sign shop in my neighborhood and I would linger and watch the glass tubing being bent and a sign being made. Once in a while I would see a pre-flight being performed on a just finished work of art. It fascinated me the intricate shapes the tubing was bent into to form something like, "Joe's Fish Bake." When we were going to town in the evening it was a pleasure to me to see the various displays of pretty lights, even before we got close enough to read what they said. As we neared downtown it was neat. The nearby signs were readable but the ones further down were vibrant backgrounds for the readable ones.

If you want to go back into the "thirties" and relax a bit, follow her links. There are some pictures of CCC camps where young men worked for thirty dollars a month and board. Much that is good was accomplished by the young men there during the depression. They had vanished in my memory 'til Bonnie's journal refreshed this old mind. CCC and WPA, PWA were governmental systems established to keep people working and able to eat. Some of our bridges, lookout towers (forest service fire lookouts) were done by these three public organizations financed and overseen by our government.

It spurred my memory to recall the "Cottage Camps" along the main roads across the country. The main roads US this and US that all went right through the middle of the towns, long before bypasses were instituted. Near the outskirts of towns were the Cottage Camps, eating places and filling stations.

The Cottage Camp would have miniscule shelter and a place to park the car and not much else. They went from primitive strings of shacks to more well thought out arrangements. Nowadays the "Motel" has taken place of them. We have stayed a time or two at surviving facilities that once were called "Cottage Camps" but are now classified as the newer ones, but still having the same cramped construction and little else than a place to park.

Bonnie "Miz Bee," is a constant source of pleasure to me and I think is worth following, her excursions into various facets of life and living are remarkable.

I have recently encountered an 87 year old man, who has recently put up a web site, exchanging e-mails and becoming acquainted, his last entry gives a link to an organization of us old duffers and dufferesses which seems to be very interesting. As soon as I get to feeling better I intend to subscribe.

Tonight I found out that a lady joined my notify list, who is apparently just a little past sixteen years old and seems to be wanting to gab with some of us older folks who have similar memories and lines of thought. She has a son who has a web site, she will be undergoing eye surgery soon and is counting on her son to read her e-mail and help her keep up on what is going on. Glory be and Hallelujah, there is still life in us old folks --- those of us who might be a bit decrepit in body but like a lively, curious ten year old mentally.

Gathering of the clans goes on all over the net, people of like minds and thoughts bolstering each other during hard spells, grieving at the loss of loved ones, giving words of encouragement to each other. Yet each one of us ferociously independent thinkers on our own.

I was given my Webtv as a birthday gift in April 1999 and surfed and searched like crazy, I was able to see on my screen many artworks that are far distant from where I will ever be. I stumbled onto journals and forums. After a while I began to post to the forums and struck up friendships with some journalers, Bonnie is one from my earliest days of communications on the net, a lady who later on became my "net" Sister. My diary is a tad over a year old now, and it is because of the encouragement of many of these fine people that I overcame my shy, reluctance to expose my "liver and lights," to the whole world.

I feel so fortunate to be wandering the net, vicariously living a bit in others lives and sharing a mutual interest in things apart from my narrow little self. I am proud to be The Nomad . . . . . .

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