12,104. RUDIMENTS, pt. 808

RUDIMENTS, pt. 808

(winning friends, influencing people...)

I found most of life to be

a folly. External life anyway;

the internal part of it, which

is most important, is also the

most ignored. There were

plenty of places with water,

but it wasn't always running,

and it wasn't always pure.

The average person would

just say, 'Water. Good!'.

Only the more discerning

would extend that, inspect the

purity of the water, seek the

steadiness and the regularity

of the flow. Those are things

of importance, unlike most

people.

-

There was a time I got so 

immersed in studies that I 

could do little else; certainly 

not talk normal talk. As much

as a benefit that being far-off

and away by myself was, it

too presented problems of

denseness and deprivation  -  

and then when I did seek

someone out to talk to, other

than my wife I mean, there

was no one. Unless to talk

about chicken feathers and

modeling cows and sheep.

Reaching a point where nothing

makes sense, where a type of

intellectualism just deadens

the rest of the world, is not

a good place to be. I couldn't

look around me without seeing

something that wasn't there.

A guide for the perplexed?

Yes, I needed that, so I read

that too. I used to sit around

thinking  -  at 25, say  -  'In

maybe 30 years I'll do this,

maybe 45 years I'll still be

able to so that, or that, if I

have the money. This timeline

horizons, you see, were long

and broad The one thing I

noticed by aging was how

those horizons shift. They get

shorter : Now when I look

out, I think, maybe, 5 years.

I don't renew subscriptions?

I no longer buy green bananas?

Where should I turn?

-

Out in the country, it used to

be that fixing a car was a cinch.

Battery, carburetor, mixture, 

distributor, points, fuel line, 

filters, distributor cap, points,

spark plugs, timing belts,

radiators, etc. A person was

still able to poke his head under

the hood and reach things. It 

was at the point where most

often guys tinkered with cars

and engines just for the hell 

of it; for fun. Those were 

country cars; only later did 

the newer stuff start trickling

in  -  fuel injection, computerized

ignitions, plug-ins for the now

common troubleshooting and

'computer brains' that override

everything else. Opening an

engine compartment now, you're

met by layers of hoses, relays,

plastic boxes, etc., so much so

that for the most part a person

is locked out of tinkering,and

there's so much extraneous

crap in there now that it's useless

to deal with : connections for

displays, GPS and 'radio' and

communication things, relays,

terminals, beepers, etc. You 

can't really do much of 

anything now and what you

can do is not much fun  -

unless you like plug-ins

and read-outs. And besides,

mostly everything always

works now.

-

One of my favorite pegs was

driving that school bus full of

kids, up through the higher hills

and deep farmlands. I never

knew the ins and outs of the

school territory or school 

regulations around there 

other than to know that there

were numerous other kids who

did NOT get on these buses,

nor, evidently, take a schooling

of any sort. Much of these

'regulations' went unenforced,

and there were numerous

enough other parents who

took no interest in whether or

not they were violating some

edict or something. 'Just you

try,' they seemed to be saying.

Under the category of 'needed

farm hand,' it seemed, even

a bad instance of child labor

could get ignored. I think

the Harry Glass school-board

types had not the gumption to

enforce rules in these matter.

It was a break in their routine,

and besides that they were

chicken-shit about things.

These days I guess what's

called 'home-schooling' can

get you at least a fair hearing 

on these issues, but most of

these parents of whom I talk 

now had supplemental reading 

skills extending just out past

maybe 4th - 6th grade; let 

alone what I'll call 'Logicking.'

In much the same way as the

modern world with its rules

and new regulations had

driven old John right out to

the barn and the noose, so too

the modern infestation was

turning into hostility for these

high-hill folk. There wasn't

much good due. I've already

written about the Jennings guy,

with whom I used to trade cars

and guns  -  real stern mountain

folk, he and his wife were  -  and

until some weird sort of actual

friendship grew between us, his

kids attended school for maybe

3 or 4 days each month. I knew

this. I'd been told to stay off his 

land with the school bus, stop 

at the bottom corner of his 

hill and road and if his kids 

weren't present, just turn off 

and keep going. The turn 

right there was fairly both

annoying and treacherous too,

but the one at the top of his

hill, by the house, was far

worse. I'd been told NOT 

to venture there at the risk

of getting the bus shot at. The

fact of the matter instead was

that the guy became an instant

hero and a curiosity to me. I

just had to see and meet this

fellow. So one day I just

slowly wound my way up his

jaggedy roadway, taking my

chances, with maybe 8 other

kids on the bus. The key was,

my ace-in-the-hole as it were,

HIS kids had taken a liking to

me; which I figured was half

the battle. I clowned and goofed 

with them on the days they

were there; making this little

schoolbus jaunt with them

something they actually 

enjoyed, not otherwise much 

getting out and apparently

never having seen a 'goofball'

side of their crazed Dad. The

first time I got up to that house,

ramshackle though interesting 

all get out, no kids came out.

I sat there a while and sure

enough here come the Jennings

guy, and with a cute little wife

too; as raggedy and rough as

the road was. 'What do you think

comin' up here with that bus? 

Now how you gonna' git outta here

in this narrow turnout without

hitting down that oak?' Good 

question, but I knew how to drive

and this was just bravado anyway.

I could sense there was almost

a comedy undertone to his

reaction, and plus, Mama there

was smiling. Maybe I'd called

him out, maybe not, but there

wasn't any real anger, certainly

no gun. And 2 kids came out

and said, 'Mama, that's Mr. Gary,

and he's the driver.' They then

scooted right into the open bus

door. I figured 2 out of 3 wasn't

so bad, and I said, 'Thanks! And

hey, I'll bring 'em back later and

we'll talk.' He waved me off as

I turned out, negotiating the tree

and that tight circle of what he

deemed a driveway or such.

Later on, I made his house

the last stop, and the kids darted

off, and, yep, that was the actual

beginning of my 'old man Jennings'

friendship. It just got better and

easier from that point. The kids

came and went, their choice, but

the going or not going onto the

schoolbus never became an

issue again. As I've written

previously, in a way-earlier

chapter, the four of us became

friends, wives and us, we had

them over for 'dinner' once, 

in fact, and it was a jolly, 

good and fully interesting 

evening. He wasn't near as 

bad as the locals made him

out to be, but he was poor 

and angry too. I could

sympathize, and it never

made no matter to me. 'd
gotten to see a whole other
side of that 'humanity' I'd always
been reading about : Real people,
with concerns, not deceit; with
a direct and valuable approach
to the world around them, not
the meek zombies all those other
invested folk would want you
to be  -  for their own gain.