Tuesday, June 14th, 2016

Tuesday, June 14^th, 2016

Gary, Indiana

Down A Mulberry Trail

When I see a ripened mulberry tree, which is frequent enough, I do what my siblings and I did throught our orchard summer days.  I pluck at the fruit.  Some of the sweetened morsels stain my kurta (shirt).  Add that to the swirling formations of body-salt coming through from the sweat, and you come up with the copy of a cheap tie-dye job.  Despite all, I manage to, or try to, look neat and fresh on the job.  It’s always the reputation of your guru that’s at stake.  Never act or dress like a slob.

Incidentally, when I left the mulberry tree and beach, residential territory behind, I came closer to Gary, Indiana’s neighbourhoods.  I found it easy to befriend people.  One area, which was particularly socially-challenged, expressed its disposition like this:

I stepped over to a man, who was sitting in front of a barber shop.  We shook hands and I told him I’m walking to San Francisco.  Jim was his name.  I told Jim that this “hood” has a lot of people who walk.

“Hey, man,” says Jim, “when you’re on an overdose you won’t be driving a car.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”  It hearkened a sad laughter.

I also came upon a police officer, a woman, who was parked at a boarded-up, old gas station, which was adjacent to an abandoned shop, at the intersection where a stop light is no longer functional.  I wanted to let her know what I’m doing and why I’m here.  I stood right by her squad car with her in it, forever.  She ignored me and kept at her computer.  I left.  I asked myself, “Is everything dysfunctional?”

May the Source be with you!

20 miles