I loved that final line; "like special gifts, wrapped up and hidden in the crook of a tree up a long trail." That's exactly what a road trip feels like. We dosing against the monotonous scenery, and then a surprise: an old barn with a story, a line of clothes on the line, maybe, in the Great Basin, a herd of wild horses on one side and a herd a antelope on the other, both grazing in belly-deep grass.
Thank you, Paul and Tonya, for this visit to Wendover. A strange town indeed. Spangled casinos rising from the desert floor - so out of place among the shabby motels and bedraggled stores or cafes. Then there's a suburban wannabe on the west end with neat houses and gardens, tiny squares of grass. On the east side is the community center with a large auditorium and a tiny restroom without a diaper changing table. How in hell does that happen in a place with so many Mormons?
Thanks, Sue! I was telling Tonya not too long ago that you were the only person I knew who had an encyclopedic knowledge of Nevada. I think we had passed someplace like Beowawe and recalled you had mentioned it - to whatever place we were passing at that moment. I love your stories and details from the Silver State.
Hardly encyclopedic, but I appreciate your faith. My daughter knows the state, at least the northern counties, a lot more than I do because she works as a Behavioral Health Coordinator with all the police and medical folks. She also did a two-month internship in Elko a few years ago, so she knows where a lot of the bodies are buried.
The Twilight Zone blended with humanity. I especially enjoyed the lyricism that rode in with the description of the wind. A travel piece that perfectly captures the foreboding of the times we live in.
I loved that final line; "like special gifts, wrapped up and hidden in the crook of a tree up a long trail." That's exactly what a road trip feels like. We dosing against the monotonous scenery, and then a surprise: an old barn with a story, a line of clothes on the line, maybe, in the Great Basin, a herd of wild horses on one side and a herd a antelope on the other, both grazing in belly-deep grass.
Thank you, Paul and Tonya, for this visit to Wendover. A strange town indeed. Spangled casinos rising from the desert floor - so out of place among the shabby motels and bedraggled stores or cafes. Then there's a suburban wannabe on the west end with neat houses and gardens, tiny squares of grass. On the east side is the community center with a large auditorium and a tiny restroom without a diaper changing table. How in hell does that happen in a place with so many Mormons?
Thanks, Sue! I was telling Tonya not too long ago that you were the only person I knew who had an encyclopedic knowledge of Nevada. I think we had passed someplace like Beowawe and recalled you had mentioned it - to whatever place we were passing at that moment. I love your stories and details from the Silver State.
Hardly encyclopedic, but I appreciate your faith. My daughter knows the state, at least the northern counties, a lot more than I do because she works as a Behavioral Health Coordinator with all the police and medical folks. She also did a two-month internship in Elko a few years ago, so she knows where a lot of the bodies are buried.
"we ate like feral javelinas" - maybe one of the best sentences EVER!
Thanks, Tabby!!!! I just realized that all javelinas are feral, but I'm going to forget that I just said that.
Great piece Paul, I loved it.
Thank you so much, Kirk! It means everything when people actually read something and comment on it. Much appreciated.
Superb, warm piece! A lovely slice of road trip rapture.
Thanks, El!!!
The bottom of the ocean indeed. Lived and died, lived and died...
The Twilight Zone blended with humanity. I especially enjoyed the lyricism that rode in with the description of the wind. A travel piece that perfectly captures the foreboding of the times we live in.
Thank you so much, Oscar. That means a lot to me. I'm trying to be in the moment.
I thoroughly enjoyed this piece. Your style and attention to detail is what I always look forward to.
Thanks, Jim. I feel the same way about your writing. I hope to swing by at some point this winter.
Love of the desert runs deep in my family. You put your cursor on why.
Thank you, Fran.