I am writing in a state park in Arkansas, Petit Jean State Park, in the CCC room. A very kind park ranger who tends the front desk overnight offered me a cup of her strong coffee, and I said yes.
As I understand it, this lodge where I am writing was constructed by the CCC, and the furniture in this room was constructed to match the original furniture. It's not exactly comfortable--a straight back chair with a woven seat--but I've used worse. There's a charm in being the only one in this room, while the sky slowly lightens. Here's a view of the lodge from the table where I'm writing:
As we drove across the state of Tennessee yesterday, I thought about how much of the state I've seen in the past week: from Bristol in the northeast corner all the way to the Mississippi River. As an English major, it's impossible not to drive by places and reflect on the literature that these places have inspired.
And of course, there are darker thoughts, about the Civil War and the Civil Rights movement and the fierce battles for the soul of America. My younger self would have thought that these battles were settled and that we were on a trajectory towards a better future, a more egalitarian future where everyone (except for the very richest of us) has similar opportunities.
As we drove and drove and drove across Tennessee, I thought about the current battles over land, especially Ukraine. I understand the value of that land, the literal land and the historic ideas of it, from reading Timothy Snyder's Black Earth. It wasn't the book I was expecting, but I haven't forgotten it--an excellent book.
As we drove and drove, I thought back to history, people who lived in the lands that the car drove by, people in the 1850's who tilled their fields and tended their farms, people who lived far away from decisions made in Washington, D.C., people who had no idea how history was about to rip apart their lives. Most of the people who lived in most of the country in pre-Civil War years didn't own slaves. Their lives were about to be upended over policies that would never have impacted them otherwise.
Happier reasons bring me to Arkansas, a wedding and the family reunion that these kinds of events can create. Last night I watched small children lurching around the picnic area pretending to be zombies. The smallest one came over to me, looked directly into my eyes, and said, "Be a zombie."
I am of an age where I don't get these kinds of invitations/directives often. And so I rose from my camp chair and played at being a zombie. By the end of the evening, most of us, all ages, had taken a turn at this game. I talked to the child's mom about how kids these days are learning about zombies, and now I have a Disney creation to look up. I didn't realize that Disney had travelled to the land of the undead.
I am traveling through the land, rejoicing that we are not yet dead, that there are still kind front desk managers who share their coffee with early morning writers, that there are still children who will spend hours playing make believe, that the land offers up so much beauty, as does life itself, if we look away from our screens and 24 hour news feeds and the other ways we allow our joy to be killed.
Today we celebrate love. Today I am remembering that we should celebrate love, in all of its forms, in every way we can, each and every day.
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