|
What about the pyramids
and tombs in Egypt? Why are they so fascinating to so many people?
Scientists have literally sacrificed their lives to study their secrets.
Great archaeological digs have been made to uncover their history. I've
thought about it many times since I was a girl, in fact. I've come to the
conclusion it was simply the way the ancient artists depicted their everyday
life that keeps us captive. All of the scenes showing activity of the common
place and the royal, as well, hold us and we are intrigued by them. Even
before we could read the script everyone was fascinated by those simplistic,
stylized figures of people fishing, hunting, making bread, or of Pharaohs on
barges sailing down the Nile river. There is something in our make up that
makes us want to know about another place and time even if we must give up
some comfortable part of our lives to do so.
Pawhuska, a town which
means, White Hair in Osage, is not more than 65 miles from my home, if that
far. It is where the county court house stands. Paying of taxes, legal work,
and searching records, make the small town a place, sooner or later,
everyone has to visit. I always enjoy going there because it brings up
memories of my Uncle who seemed to have one or more chores he had to do even
until he became elderly and a bit senile. He always had a way of
entertaining a young person though and the trips were most enjoyable. A meal
at one of his favorite Bar B Q places which, indeed, bordered on being a bar
was entertainment and pleasurable. He always stacked up nickels on the table
so I could plug the juke box in order to hear the latest country western
toons. Life was simple then.
Driving over the now
smooth highway was nothing like it was when I was a child. The winding
narrow strips of roads of yesterday, then, were black topped and that was a
plus but this was the end of what could be considered good roads. Many a
person was killed on the sharp winding curves that went around the hills
instead of through and over them. As a result of this knowledge I
appreciated today's road which was allowing me to skim easily over this
beautiful land called Green Country. It was living up to its name today
because of the rains we've recently had. There was no where one could not
look without seeing the majestic creations by a higher intelligence. My mind
was exercising and creating a pallette for the rich earth, its produce upon
the far hills and the ones closer to me. I wondered about the genius of The
Intelligence, Who was able to balance these together with that touch of a
mother color in order to bring harmony to all the hues.
However, true to the
inherited ways of my genes, the most pleasant part of my trip was the people
themselves. The quick and sharp librarian put my books and table almost
directly in front of the door where people had to see the presentation first
thing as they walked through the door. Of course, my advantage was that I
could see who came through as well as the clever staff worked with them.
What a lesson I had.
Prairie people are a
breed apart, so to speak. They are from persons who have quick thinking ways
(they had to have for their survival). There is nothing indecisive or weak
about them. It was my pleasure to watch the library staff take care of each
one's requests very carefully but with an equal measure of disciplined,
unwavering firmness all the while displaying the greatest respect and
courtesy. For a moment I was transported back to another world to a time and
place of my childhood. The remembered blessings of having grown up where the
people who were responsible for our education, indeed, must have come from
the best of people. It was wonderful and a salve to a sometimes injured
psychic, just to recall these gentler times.
When I drove away from
the comfortable, pleasant surroundings of my family and household to embark
on the afternoon for a book signing at Pawhuska I had no illusions of great
numbers of books to be sold. The population alone would not allow this. A
mix-up on publicizing the event made no turn out past the everyday traffic
and that was my fault. I should have double-checked the date and, so forth.
Here, I am, caught in
this new world when all things successful are often measured by the amount
of money we make, and that is okay, too. One has to think about the
necessary things. However, for just a tiny sparkling flash like one we see
on television of those mysterious neurons in the brain, a memory is brought
back to us. All, the little, daily things with life and living that are
only pictures in our mind are once again played out in an artful way but
more, like on a living stage, rather than as is shown in pictographs in
colored ink on stone walls. Surely this understanding of our past is
worth-while. I sold enough to pay for gasoline and isn't that saying
something?
By the way, I was
encouraged to drive over and back home amidst quite a few drivers in
Toyotas. I saw not one large gas guzzling car. Even the driving habits were
different. No one was rushing at all. Sixty miles an hour was their choice
of speeds. There is more than one way to skin a cat, or win a war, they
seemed to be saying. That alone was ointment for my frustrated feelings for
being high-jacked at the gas pump or worrying about was happening to the
ozone layer. |
