Uncle Ed’s Goodbye America Trip

“Hey, Grandpa, Uncle Ed’s here. Turn off the news and come and see.” Grandpa heads upstairs and finds Ed sitting on the porch with a glass of lemonade. He’s wearing a MAGA hat.

“Ed, what are you doing here?”

“Drinking lemonade. Downright tasty, reminds me of the golden olden days.”

“So why the visit, Ed, though you’re always welcome?” Grandpa sees Ed’s old camper parked the curb.

“You drove all that way in your old camper. Can’t believe it.”

“Might be my last. Drove Highway 66 or what’s left of it. Lots of blue roads. Parts of I-40 for old times sake, like the time you and I made the trip in my old VW bug of mine, which broke down in the middle of nowhere. But she got us to a town too small to have a name. You remember. We were visiting your mom for Christmas. Man was it cold.”

“Those dudes robbed us. Said they had to remove the engine to fix the problem, an alternator!”

“Out in the middle of nowhere beggars can’t be choosy. They certainly weren’t getting rich.”

“So why are you here?”

“My farewell trip. Wanted to see what’s left of America, at least the America I knew.”

“Can’t believe you’d do that.”

“Had to get away.”

“You had to get away from California. I thought you liked Comanche Junction.”

“Thought I would too. I moved there mainly because an old aunt lived there. I’d never been there before. She was the last of my tribe. And the name of the town was appealing. But she died a few months after I got there and the town really had nothing to do with the Indians. You’d never know it was once the hunting grounds of the Comanche and Kiowa.”

“Why didn’t you move?”

“Bought a house and too old to move again. Just said fuck it. But now I’m thinking maybe I’ll have to move again.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Yeah. Don’t know what I was looking for, but I knew I had to get out of Orange County.”

“Because of the break-in?”

“Fucking Mexican gang-bangers. Those Mexican gangs created a shit pile of bad karma for their own people. They break into our country, or their parents did, and that’s how they show their gratitude. Those gang-bangers created the MAGA nightmare that got Trump reelected and them deported. They really betrayed their parents who took the risk to enter the country illegally to work, not to join gangs. I get that Americans hated the government even more after Biden, so they elected a politician who hated the government as much as they did. And MAGA government turned out to be worse than all the others and no friend of the Trump supporters. The Big Beautiful Bill for billionaires proves that much. It’s supposed to be a government of the people, by the people, for the people, not a government run by billionaires for billionaires. And all those spineless politicians voted for it just like they did for the Vietnam War.”

“Except for Senators Wayne Morse and Ernest Gruening. They voted against the war.”

“Those two heroes were like the sheriff in High Noon, all alone among cowards. The rest were collaborators who now live in infamy.”

“And because of Trump, Biden became a saint. How ironic is that? He did as much as the Hispanics to get Trump reelected. And MAGA is just a Charlie Manson cult full of hate that took over the country. But I would have left Orange County anyway. A totally unnatural place. Nature paved over with civilization. Had to go to a park to see a patch of grass or drive through a ton of traffic to get to the ocean for a breath of fresh air. But the break-in told me I needed to get out of town for my safety. I mean my apartment complex looked like a jail with barred windows on all the first floor apartments except mine. That should have been red flag, but it was all I could afford if I wanted to own a place in my old age. They caught some bangers breaking into other homes and wanted me to check them out in a lineup to see if any were the same guys who robbed me. They told me they were members of a local Mexican gang.”

“Did you go?”

“Hell no! One of the guys who robbed me held a knife to my throat while his buddies ransacked my apartment. I was in bed scared stiff. So even if they were the same guys, no way I was going to testify against them. If they went to prison the rest of the gang would be looking for revenge. So I put the apartment up for sale. Sold it for peanuts and headed to Comanche Junction. But the bad karma caught up with the bangers and their parents who probably never broke a law except for coming into the country illegally but were grateful that they would be able to build a new life America. And I don’t blame them. The government never cared about defending the borders. Like Putin, Trump doesn’t believe in borders. Says he does but only ours because it got him elected but nobody’s else’s borders, like Canada’s and Greenland’s.

“And the other monster created by Hispanic bad karma was fucking run-amok ICE. What a bunch of thugs. Mussolini had his Blackshirts and Hitler had his Brownshirts. Now Trump has ICE. They don’t bother with lineups or trials. If you’re brown you’re guilty. If you got a tattoo you’ll disappear in a prison that keeps convicts in cages criticized as too cruel for animals by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

“I don’t blame the immigrants for coming here to work and raise a family. Mexicans aren’t like Americans. They’re not afraid of hard work. But their kids are something else, scary gangbangers like that MS-13 gang who look like a bunch of zombies from Doctor Moreau’s island. Beast people! And that’s what got Terminator Trump reelected, and understandably so. People don’t want to live on Doctor Moreau’s island. But now they have to worry about ICE and the rest of us have to worry about MAGA. Never thought I’d see the day.”

 “LBJ and his Vietnam War seem like the good old days. Then America just evaporated.”

“Smoking dope, making love, and reading Camus and Kerouac, America’s last hurrah. Remember when we saw Peter, Paul, and Mary with your brother and that Jewish girl he was in love with?”

“Yeah, I remember. I suppose he’s better off in a way.”

“Nah, John wouldn’t think that. None of the shit would bother him. He was Mr. Mellow.”

“Zig-Zag man. True enough. Nothing bothered him so much that he couldn’t enjoy life. I think after his stint in Vietnam he decided humanity was a lost cause so all you can do is enjoy life as best as you can. He followed Candide’s advice that we got to cultivate our garden because the rest of the world is so fucked up it can’t be fixed. And if it was fixed, some narcissistic politician would break it again. That’s why he got a house on cul-de-sac at the very edge of the city. His back yard was the desert. Now his ashes are blowin in the wind over that desert. Just as he wanted.”

“I miss him.”

“Yeah. So you blew off Orange County.”

“Never like the place anyway. There was no edge to the city, just more city. I felt trapped like claustrophobic.”

“But Comanche Junction hasn’t worked out either?”

“Did at first, but then the Trumpers wearing those darn MAGA hats appeared like the ghouls in that movie Night of the Living Dead. I think we saw that together. Fucking creepy. Wasn’t long until everyone had to wear a MAGA hat.” He pointed to his. “Make America Great Again. What a load of shit.  Rumors were that some Biden’s people with their own hats got lynched. Hell, I was more afraid of the Trump cult than I was of the Mexican gangs in Orange County. The gangs were driven by the profit motive, whereas MAGA is driven by hatred. The country’s really changed. Night of the Living Dead makes more sense now than it did when it was made. It’s like the people are the bad guys.

“I always believed America was the land of heroes. I watched too many movies like the John Wayne movies, Casablanca, High Noon, On the Waterfront you know movies where the American hero stands up to the bad guys. Maybe it was that way when those movies were made. Then the bad guys were a minority of outlaws. No longer. Now ordinary citizens are the bad guys and they have taken over the government. The age of heroes is over for America. It’s sickening. I’d rather live in Ukraine, a land of heroes rather than backstabbing, money worshipping Judases. America has become like that old movie Invaders from Mars where the Martians take control of people by inserting a mind control device into their necks. In the movie you can’t trust neighbors any longer. The members of the MAGA cult have had their minds implanted. They think they’re different from the BLM, ANTIFA, and the WOKE people but they ain’t. They’re all cults. America has become a nation of cults. In the movie you can tell that a person is under the control of the Martians by the puncture on their necks. With the MAGA cult it’s the hats. Like the hats take control of people’s minds. So weird.”

“You’re wearing one.”

“For self-protection. Got it from an old guy where I got gas. They were stacked up in the windows probably to show the MAGA goons that he was one of them. But he wasn’t. ‘Ed,’ he said, ‘you can’t be driving around without a MAGA hat. It’s dangerous.’ I noticed he wore one. He went back into the store and got one and gave it to me. ‘You’ve been a loyal customer, Ed. Wouldn’t want nothin to happen to you.’  So I got a MAGA hat, but figured I should hit the road until the MAGA thing blew over. It hasn’t, has it?”

“No. So that’s why you’re wearing that hat?”

“Yeah. I saw MAGAs roaming about like the walking dead looking for anyone without a MAGA hat to attack. I had to slow down for about a dozen blocking the road. One guy was revving a chainsaw like Leatherface in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Another guy holding a bloody baseball bat approached the car. I pointed to my hat and they let me pass. I thought I was a goner. I was glad to get out into the wide open spaces with just nature. Fucking people!”

“Well you’re in California now and it’s safe in most places but not if you’re wearing that hat. Get rid of it. If Mexican gangbangers see you wearing it you’ll be used as a piñata. Since ICE has been unleashed, Trump has become their number one enemy. Out here Trump is considered Big Brother. So, Ed, are you looking for another place to live?”

“Maybe, but where? It would be like finding a safe cabin on the Titanic after hitting the iceberg. That’s what MAGA Trump is. A political iceberg that the good ship America just collided with.”

“Biden divided the country and the idiot Dems thought Harris could heal it. What fools. Now she might run again. Apparently she doesn’t know that old expression ‘fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.’”

“What did you expect? Politicians never learn from their mistakes because they blame everyone else for them. They just want to be celebrities, you know in the limelight until they are voted out office or drop dead from old age. They are totally disconnected from the people—the ordinary folks trying to make a living and raise a family. The government doesn’t want to represent the people. It wants the people to represent the government. I remember when Biden was a hit man for the credit card companies. He was against people declaring bankruptcy even if they over used their credit cards to pay medical bills. I never liked the man. And Harris had as much chance against the MAGA cult as a lady bug has against a steam roller.

“The Good Ship America has been hitting one political iceberg after another ever since LBJ and his Vietnam War. And now the country is sinking fast. What was Biden thinking when he allowed immigrants to flood into the country and then flew them all over the country as if he was running an immigrant travel service? It was like he was setting up Harris to lose. She was already wearing cement shoes for supporting the burning of American cities. I mean those folks came off as totally anti-American.

“I just don’t get it, none of it. Anyway, the old America’s gone. The country we’re living in has become no country for old men like in that movie. Comanche Junction was once Indian territory. Then the white people moved in. I think a lot of Americans like me think if they don’t get out of town they’ll end up like the Indians, who at least have their reservations. So now the country has become like Putin’s Russia, a MAGA dictatorship, and now the two dictators are to meet in Alaska to divvy up the spoils of war.”

“Never thought the Indians would be better off than us.”

“Until Trump closes the reservations. He’s heartless and backed up by the MAGA cult like Hitler’s brown shirts. And now he’s in control of the government. I envy the Indians having a place of their own that provides stability—you know, culturally. They deserved reservations after what the white man did to them. I wonder what black folks think about what’s going on with the MAGA predators having taken control of the country. Apparently, black lives still don’t matter. The only lives that matter are the members of the MAGA cult. Black people call black MAGAs Oreos. It’s like the Charles Manson cult has taken control of the country. Politicians have wrecked the country and now we're living among the wreckage. All people want is stability, safety, and a cultural home of their own, not a dictatorship telling everyone that they gotta live like the government says.”

“Indians have a cultural home that can’t be taken from them, but for how long is anyone’s guess with that monstrosity of a human being in the White House allowing ICE to drag people from their homes, cars, jobs, and schools. Then they disappear. It’s a lot like when the Nazis rounded up Jews and then made them disappear. Trump’s a sinister magician, making people just disappear. First, it was the Negro slaves rounded up in Africa, then the Indians exterminated or relocated, and now the Hispanics. What I discovered on the road is that the only thing that doesn’t change and is never evil is the land, nature. The hills and fields, grass and trees, the sky and clouds are all that’s left that gives me pleasure. I’d pull off where there was just nature and no people around. In the morning I’d fix breakfast and enjoy the natural surroundings while I ate. One night I pulled off the highway and searched for a place to sleep. When I woke I found myself on an Indian reservation. There was nothing but an abandoned house and an old church in the distance. When I got out of the camper, there was an Indian man waiting. He said he was a Navajo chief.”

 * * *

“Friend, do you know you’re on an Indian reservation?” he asked.

“No,” I said, “I got lost during the night but had to stop or fall asleep at the wheel. I’ll get going.”

“No hurry, friend. I am Chief Old Fox. Where you headed?”

“Nowhere really. Going to visit a friend from the old days, then I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have a home?”

“Did, but I don’t feel at home there.” I showed him the MAGA hat.

“I see.”

 “The town’s called Comanche Junction, but there ain’t no Indians there. Wish there were. Everything has changed like it did for your people.”

“Yes. Now my people live on islands in a world that has become stranger and stranger to us.”

“You mean your reservations.”

“They are pieces of the old world and its way of life. Have you been searching for an island of the old America for yourself?”

“Not really, but I’m thinking about it. Got to do something and soon.”

“Do you have a place in mind?”

“In a way. The old world of nature without people, a place where there are no MAGA hats or any other political hats.”

“You have no people then?”

“No longer. I feel like alien among the new Americans as your people must have felt once white people arrived. Now they are strangers even to me. I knew such change would come, but I was hoping for something better. It’s strange how nations can be wrecked by stupid ideas.”

“Very strange. Like how Marx’s ideas wrecked Russia, China, and North Korea, cutting their people off from the old ways, giving them an artificial culture based on a blueprint invented by a man who believed he knew how everyone should live. His blueprint made people artificial like robots. And now the MAGA people are changing America to the way it was when in a kind of madness Americans destroyed nature and its people, the Indians and the wild creatures. They were motivated by greed and hate.”

“And the cult has taken control of the government. Old timers like me feel like we’re living in the end times for America. But that wasn’t true for your people. Conquest just cut you off, didn’t completely destroy you. You still have your culture.”

“Yes and no. The old ways can’t exist when the people of those ways have been destroyed or cut off from their old way of life. Your people brought with them an idea—Christianity—they used to replace the old beliefs, but many of us prefer the old ways, but others think them foolish. So yes, I know what you’re feeling. I have felt the same way.”

“Do they think the old beliefs are more foolish than Christianity?”

“As I said the old beliefs were rooted in a way of life that has disappeared. We do not interact with the Earth world as our ancestors did. And the white man’s religion does not encourage us to do so. We’ve adopted the white man’s way of living and lost our own. We do not live with the land as our ancestors did.”

“Why did Indian become Christians?”

“Most had no choice. It was forced upon them. But the conquest of the white man proved that our beliefs lacked power. The Ghost Dance was the last attempt of the Indians to call upon their spirits to defeat their enemy by making them impervious to bullets. The result was the Battle of Wounded Knee. The Indians were defeated and so were their beliefs. So, many accepted the religion of the people who defeated them.”

“Why not just do without?”

“That goes against our nature. People need something to believe in and to us nature is both sacred and mysterious, so we think spiritual forces are at work in nature.”

“What about you?”

“To become a Christian, one must give up Earth as the center of values. One doesn’t need a religion to consider Earth as sacred. And we can’t go back to old religion, though we still tell the stories and perform the old ceremonies.”

“So what is sacred?”

“Everything in nature is sacred.”

“Do all your people feel that way?”

“Most do. Though many of our young people have lost their way because of the influence of the white man, but even those who have lost their way still respect nature. Its value exists beyond the religious myths of the white man and even those of the Indian.”

“I suppose there is no room for a white man on the reservation.”

“You’d have to marry an Indian woman, but there are places where you could live near the reservation and away from your people. Is that what you want?”

“I would like to live close to nature and away from my people, yes.”

“I understand. And you carry your home with you, so perhaps it is possible. You cannot be one of us, but we will not ignore you if you fall into difficulty.”

“Like if I got sick.”

“Yes. We would not abandon you just because you are not one of us.”

“I appreciate that, but tell me does anyone live in that house?”

“No. It was the home of a couple. The man was a farmer. He owned much land. And he hired many of our men to help him work it. His name was Ralph. We stand on the land that was once his, but when he became sick he willed that once his wife died his farm the farm would be given to us.”

“And his wife agreed?”

“Her name was Susan. She was a doctor who cared for us for many years. They had no children. She knew us better than her husband did. She loved us, and that is why the house is sacred to us. It is no longer a place to be lived in.”

“And the church? It looks abandoned.”

“It is, but it is still respected. There is an interesting story about the doctor and the church. Would you like to hear it?”

“I told the old chief that I would. This is what he told me.”

 * * *

Susan went to church every Sunday, but stopped after her husband died. He never went to church but she did. One Sunday she was found by Deer Woman, a medicine woman. Susan was sitting on the side of the road looking very sad. Her husband had died a month earlier. Deer Woman asked her why hadn’t gone to church. Susan responded saying, “What's the point? Ralph’s dead and I know he isn’t in Heaven because there is no such place. All they do in church is worship an old book.”

Deer Woman said that she understood her sadness because she too had lost her husband.

“But you still have something,” said Susan, “your people and your beliefs. I have nothing”

“You have your own people.”

“No I don’t. They’ve become strangers to me. I have no religion. I’m too old to work. I have no people. Tell me, Deer Woman, what I should do?”

“You have your garden and orchard where you spend much of your time. And you have us though you are not one of us.”

“There was a time when your people found religion in nature.”

“We still do,” said Deer Woman. “It’s not like your people’s religion. There are ceremonies but no lectures because there is no book. We enjoy ceremonies. They are not about us but about our connection with the earth and sky and all their creatures. Words are not needed in our religion. Neither are the ceremonies. They are expression of love and appreciation, not for god but for the Earth-World. And they connect us with our ancestors.”

“Is the Earth-World your god?”

“We have no god, Susan. We have spirits. Each thing possesses a spirit so is given a spirit name that allows us to communicate with it. Corn Mother is such a name. We can pray to her to make our corn plants healthy and strong. As we care for our corn plants we feel her presence.”

“So plants and animals are spirits. Does that mean they are supernatural?”

“No, because they are natural. What they are is mysterious. White people think of a deer as an animal, a tree as a plant, the earth as a planet and the sun as a star. They are just objects to white people. But too us they are mysteries. There is a white man here who lives on the reservation who understands what I’m telling you better than me. We consider him a wise man because he possesses much knowledge that is different from ours. But Susan you do not need knowledge to be wise and to live wisely. I believe you already possess wisdom. You were a doctor and still are if needed. Your husband gave land to the Indian people and you welcomed him doing so. Now you spend time among the plants and creatures of your garden and orchard. I think you are wise but do not know that you are. I think you have a religion that is truer and kinder than the one preached in the church.”

“I like that. I want a religion but don’t know where to find it. The church seems dead to me. Services are only once a month and the only people there are a few elders, all Indians. White people don’t come because Indians are there. The church is meaningless. Still I long for something to worship.”

“Susan, I think you have a religion. It is your garden and orchard. I often see you wandering among the trees.’”

“I love trees.”

“Then I shall name you woman who loves trees.”

“I like that name.”

“Then that is how you will be known among my people. Susan, woman who loves trees.”

 * * *

“After Susan was named woman who loves trees by Deer Woman she would be seen standing among the trees of her orchard as if she was communicating with them in some mysterious way. And among her trees is where Susan is buried. The ground and the orchard are holy, but you can visit her grave if you wish. Many of our people do, out of respect for her. They made a stone bench where you can sit and think. The name on the head stone, however, is not Susan but woman who loves trees.”

“So I cannot speak to her.”

“No,” said the old chief.

“I asked if the wise man Deer Woman spoke of was still alive.”

“Yes, and you should visit him if you are serious about living apart from your people.”

“I will, Chief Old Fox, but I must see an old friend. He and I are both old and not long for this world. After that I will return if I can and visit this wise man and see if he can help me find a place to set up a camp. Are there other whites who have done that?”

“Yes, but they do not live on the reservation like the wise man who had married a Navajo woman. They live in the wild lands. We have seen more whites come to the wild lands with trailers to settle on government land. I do not know if it’s legal. You may do that as well. Many animals are sensitive to changes that threaten them. They flee to places of safety. I think that is true for many white people today. They no longer feel safe or at home among their own people. It’s a sad thing. The Indian has never felt that way.”

“Well I feel that way. I have a MAGA hat in the truck that I have to wear to keep from being beaten or killed by the MAGA ghouls.”

“You’ve become like your black people. Unsafe among whites”

“For some people America has never been a safe place.”

“If you think you might return to stay awhile, then speak to the white man. He is considered a wise man by us. Like I said, he married one of us, so he lives on the reservation but only at its border.” 

* * * 

“So the old Chief gave me directions to the white man. He said to tell him that Chief Old Fox sent me to him. I decided to see the white man before leaving. I was hoping he would advise me on what I might do. After an hour driving in wildlands of the Navajo reservation I came upon a weathered mobile home that looked like it had been there for years. It had a fenced in area for chickens and a small garden. Outside was a faded blue Ford pickup perhaps ten years old. As I got out of the truck an old bearded man and a couple dogs came to greet me. I said hello and told him my name and that Chief Old Fox sent me.”

“He did did he? Well, you’re welcome. My name is Jim. So what can I do for you?”

“I’ve come from Texas, escaped is more like it. The MAGAs have taken over. And now I just want to get away from people.”

“Well, Ed. You’re not the first. Trump and his MAGAs have got a lot of people scared.”

“They come to live here?”

“Some that have trailers like mine are looking for a place to park them for a while. Most then move on. I know some have parked their trailers on government land.”

“So not many stay?”

“It ain’t easy. Why don’t you take a seat, Ed, I’ll get you a glass of water. You look dry.”

“While he was in the trailer I sat in one of the folding chairs and examined his outfit. The top of the trailer was covered with solar panels. When he came back he gave me a cup of water in one of those blue Coleman camping cups that we used to use when camping. Then he sat down.”

“Jim, you have a pretty nice setup here, with those solar panels.”

“I have a generator for emergencies, but the solar panels give me all the energy I need. I shower once every couple weeks in cold water. I use the Internet for news mostly. I eat simple, scrambled eggs, oatmeal, and tuna sandwiches. I get my veggies from can corn, green beans, peas, pinto beans, and chili. Still, I have to drive to the store every couple of weeks to recycle cans and stock up on water and food.”

“You’re not living in luxury then”

“Actually I am. My luxury is nature, my chickens, and my dogs Happy and Rose. And I get a visitor now and then, like you.”

“You were married to a Navajo woman.”

“I was. She’s buried nearby. I visit her if I’m feeling lonely.”

“Do you eat your chickens?”

“I wouldn’t eat one of them than I would one of my dogs. They’re companions and the most entertaining creatures.”

“Jim, do you think I could make it out here.”

“You’d have to be off the reservation, and you would need more than that camper of yours if you would want to set up more than a few days.”

“Do MAGAs come out here?”

“I haven’t seen any. We’re pretty independent out here. Even the authorities don’t like MAGAs or their cult leader Orange Man.”

“The authorities, like who?”

“Like Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, and Utah. They don’t have much use for the feds. Never liked them all that much anyway. They don’t trust them. They’re loyal to their own people, not to politicians and their thugs. Unlike the do-nothing politicians, we’re not afraid of them. Live free, die free is our motto.”

“Chief Old Fox said you’re a wise man.”

“Did he now? I’m no wiser than him or the other leaders of the tribe. I would say the Navajo are a wise people, wiser than ours clearly. I suppose that I’ve chosen to live close to nature apart from people gives the impression of wisdom. But they do as well. The Navajo are an ancient people who prefer living close to nature and away from the madness of cities. So I suppose because the crazy MAGA cult has taken control of the country, you’re looking to escape the craziness.”

“Pretty much. You know when I was a kid America was a special place, but no longer. I never thought I’d see the country fall apart. That seemed impossible. Now it’s become evil like Putin’s Russia. I mean how was that possible?”

“Don’t know. I came here long before the MAGA madness.”

“Because you married a Navajo woman.”

“Yes, Doli, Navajo for bluebird. She asked if I would live on the reservation. And I said of course. You’re old enough to remember the hippies, right?”

“I remember them very well. I even attended a few love-ins. Great fun. It was during the Vietnam War. The government was as sick then as it is today, but people were still joyful, not hateful like now. What about them?”

“Well, I lived on a commune for a while. The hippies understood there was a better way to live life, a way more natural and less artificial. I agreed though my background was quite different. I was studying engineering, but decided to join the Navy rather than getting drafted into the Army. In the Navy I became an electrician. After I got out of the service I let my hair grow long. I wanted to put Vietnam behind me. I got a general science degree and really didn’t know what to do. I certainly didn’t want to work for a corporation and wanted to get away from crowds of people. That’s when I got pulled in with the hippie culture. The hippies I knew were more into books than into drugs though we smoked a lot of cannabis to liberate our minds. What they wanted was a way of life very similar to the one lived by the Navajo, an organic way of life. But the commune didn’t last. It had no roots, no culture. It was just an idea, a waystation for young people for whom the American dream had soured, like today. And what they were looking for was more of an idea than a reality. And most knew that. They wanted a way of life that earth-bound, like the life celebrated by Henry David Thoreau, Fenimore Cooper, Walt Whiteman, and many other earth-clan thinkers. It was Thomas Jefferson’s philosophy of the yeoman farmer who lives independently away from the corrupting influences of cities and politicians.”

“But it didn’t work out.’”

“It couldn’t. Like I said it was rootless. So were we really.’”

“Then what?”

“Like the others, I moved on and became a science teacher in Albuquerque. But I didn’t like the city. Too big, too many freeways, and poor air quality. And lots of violence. Saw an ad for an electrician at the Gallup Indian Medical Center, so that’s where I went and where I met Doli who worked there as a nurse. She wasn’t a city girl. She lived on the reservation. Once we got serious she asked me if I would be willing to live on the reservation, which meant getting married. I said yeah. It was like a bonus for me. I was crazy about her and wanted to live close to nature and away from people, my people, I suppose.”

“And you lived in this trailer.”

“Yeah. I was an outsider so really wasn’t part of the tribe. And I didn’t want to be seen as an intruder. So the trailer was the easiest solution, parked just inside the reservation.”

“Did you get along with the people?”

“Of course. They’re no different from us. Doli had a sister and two brothers. I taught the older brother to be an electrician. But I didn’t hang out with the people. I wasn’t a Navajo. Still, I interacted with them. They would ask me to do electrical work when there was a problem. I wasn’t one of them, but I was a welcomed outsider. I think my being seen as a nature hermit made it easier for them to accept me. Actually, my being into nature is what Doli liked about me.”

“Because she was into nature?”

“Big time. She had a special relationship with nature. She said it came to her as a child. Her motivation wasn’t intellectual but emotional. She felt she belong to nature. It was more her home than even the tribe. She’d go off for days, like on some vision quest. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. In a way she was as wild as the creatures she loved.”

“You didn’t go with her?”

“No. Of course, we took lots of walks together just like other love birds, but that wasn’t same thing. She often took Rose, the golden colored dog. Happy came later after Doli died. I was coming home from the hospital and saw him the side of the road.  A pitiful sight. So I stopped to check on him. When he saw me rushed over really happy to see me. And I was happy to see him. That’s how he got his name.”

“So she found you special just because you liked nature.”

“I knew the science. I wasn’t into nature in the way she was. I knew how the Universe evolved, how life came about. She found all that really interesting. I would get her a science book at a second-hand book store and she’d read it and ask me questions. But her relationship with nature wasn’t abstract or intellectual. It was very personal, intimate. It was like she belonged to the family of plants and animals. Was it mystical? I don’t know. She would tell me about her experiences in wild, about snakes and lizards, birds, mice, and rabbits she encountered. Once a bobcat. But otherwise her relationship with the creatures, plants, mountains, rocks, or whatever was private. She said she was a creature born as a human. What kind of creature,I asked. A bird, she said. But she didn’t know what kind of bird. Maybe her relationship to nature couldn’t be put into words, so she didn’t try to.”

“But she died.”

“Yeah, worst time of my life. She got sick. We thought it was the flu, but suddenly she got worst. She was taken to the hospital, from there flown to the hospital in Albuquerque. I went by car. When I went to see her the next day, she was already gone. Made me sick. She didn’t want to be buried in a graveyard with other people but out in nature. She would say she belonged to nature, not to people. But she’s not far from me. So the dogs and I visit her.”

“You must get lonely.”

“A little. I don’t know what I feel really. I have friends, my animals, nature, but I do feel the most important part of my life was taken from me and is irreplaceable. So, Ed, tell me, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Can’t stay in Comanche Junction. Need to get away from the MAGA world. I like your setup. Some animals, a garden. I could sell my place and buy a trailer like yours. I’m retired so I don’t have to work. What do you think?”

“There is a lot of empty space out here. But do some exploring. Getting a trailer like mine or a mobile home is a big step. First you should look at the small communities in New Mexico, Arizona, or Colorado. They all have small houses for sell outside of town. If you want a garden you’re going to need more than bottled water. And I’m not a hermit. I have a community. I’m just not a part of it. But if I needed help, help would come. It’s a shame that making America great again has made it unlivable for lots of people.”

“Wouldn’t mind being close enough to you to visit once in a while.”

“You’re welcome anytime, Ed. But do some exploring and have a plan in mind before you do anything. If you come up with something give me a call and tell me what you have in mind. I’ll give you some pointers if I can. I wish you well.” 

* * * 

“After talking to Jim, I got back on the road and headed here. Still not sure what I want to do. I like the idea of buying a piece of property in the boondocks where I could park a trailer, maybe a small mobile home.”

“I don’t know, Ed. I get it. I would like to get the hell out of California and get away from all the people, maybe the Dakotas or Vermont. Would need to find a community where making America great again doesn’t matter. A place where people just want to be let alone to work and raise families. America’s greatness is just meaningless abstractions. Work, family, and good neighbors are all that matters in life. Only dull minds like Trump and Putin think what matter is living in a great country, whatever that means. Sick minds think greatness has to do with being rich and powerful. If it weren’t for the sick minds of politicians like Putin, Jinping, and that fatso tyrant of North Korea, militaries wouldn’t be necessary because only pathological politicians start wars. The Chinese people couldn’t care less about Taiwan and the Russian people don’t care about Ukraine. Conquering them won’t improve their lives—just kill a lot of men, women, and children and destroy cities. Small countries like Norway or Sweden are greater than the U.S., Russia, and China because they don’t harm other nations and because they offer a high quality of life for ordinary folks. Yeah, I just want to get away from it all. Maybe Canada, another one of those high quality of life nations. We could do that together. Hell the population of Canada is about the same as California but the country is twenty times bigger.”

“You’ve given some thought to moving to Canada?”

“Not really, just to getting out of California. The big appeal of moving to Canada is getting away from Americans. America has become a land of cults. Fucking creepy.”

“You couldn’t leave your family.”

“No, but you know my son Bill and I have talked over moving somewhere else. You know Bill has a plumbing business.”

“Yeah.”

“He mentioned selling it and getting out of California. He says it’s too crowded and too expensive. I think he’d like a simpler life.”

“Being a plumber he could go anywhere.”

“But he couldn’t just move out into the wilderness. He has a family to care for and Jimmy needs a school. Mary’s pregnant. He said he could sell the business and start over again somewhere else. But he would need a town where he could work as a plumber. America was already in pieces before Trump came along. And Trump doesn’t get it. He want to make America great again when what the country needs is to be made whole. It never was. And I have no idea of how it could be made whole when it consists of political, religious, ideological, and just plain weird cults. And certainly Trump doesn’t know. All he does is threaten other countries, side with dictators, play golf, and come up with money-making schemes. He’s all about money. It’s a sickness. I’ll never understand how some people find him inspiring, but that goes for Putin as well. People worshiping sick minds. And doing that makes them sick. So yeah, Bill and I think we should get the family away from the sickness.”

“Me too, do the Thoreau thing. Find a pond away from people where I can live in peace with nature.”

“Sounds good. So what’s next?”

“Tomorrow I’ll head back to Comanche Junction, but I won’t be in a hurry. I will do some exploring and thinking.”

“You’re welcome to stay here, Ed.”

“Thanks, but I’ve already had enough of California, but I’ll stay in touch so we can figure out our great escape.”

“Sounds good.”