2002-08-06|8:29 p.m.
Sorry, I have been getting all riled up about politics again. I don�t really dislike religious people. There are just a lot of things that have turned me off to it. And maybe, a lot of it isn�t fair. And certainly, a lot of it is based on prejudgments. So, I�ll take a break for awhile on all those who read this.
I thought I would tell you all a little about my trip to Arkansas to see my family.
But first I will give you a background into it all. First off, I am not from Arkansas. A lot of people get confused on that part because my dad and my grandparents live out there.
It is a somewhat unusual case, where my dad moved away from me in the middle of my senior year of high school. My dad was getting pretty bad with his hyperthyroid condition and he couldn�t really afford the medicine for it. He believed that he could find better work out there. Plus, he wanted to be near his parents, who are aging. And also, not to forget, he wanted to be as far away from my mom as possible. So, he moved out there with my brother and my step-brother.
His wife, my step-mom, Sheri, stayed to make sure that my step-sister and I would be ok, because we were still minors and couldn�t legally live alone. Only thing was, she didn�t have a job. She was out on a disability, but wasn�t receiving any money for it. So, Tab and I got jobs and worked as much as we could. It took every bit that we made to make the house run. And, at the end of our senior year, two days after the ceremony, all of my family was gone except for Tab and my mom that I hardly ever visited anyway. So, I never left California.
So, I visit when I can. But, I used to go out there a lot before my parents moved out there. My grandparents moved out there when I was in grade school, so I spent many summers back there.
Here, of course, was the hell on wheels that I had to spend a day and a half on to get there (back of MM�s head):
I have to first start off by saying that Arkansas is very different from California for me. I am in awe of everything there. Every time I get out there, I get my battery recharged, so to speak.
The people are much slower and much more considerate, that is unless you are black in some cases. People wave at you when they pass you in the car; and, in the town where my parents live, the population is so small (760 people) that everyone knows everyone.
Where my family lives it is, the land is enveloped in trees and greenery. And even more amazing than that, the whole place pulsates with all life (non-human). There are so many bugs that the chorus of bug songs continues infinitely. There are some bugs there that sound like goats. And there are lightning bugs! I loved catching them when I was younger and watching them illuminate in my hands. And there are armadillos, which look like little walking bullets. And of course, there are a lot of snakes. One of which, one summer, was sitting in the corner of a shower I was once in (the pervert!).
Here is a picture of me braving the wilderness:
Most of the days the vacation, MM and I worked in my grandparent�s chicken house to help them out. The chicken house is amazingly large, housing at its maximum 8,000 chickens. It is those horrible ones you see in vegan pamphlets. The house barely holds them all. They have barely enough room to mate (which is their purpose in a breeder house like theirs), eat, sleep, crap, and peck each other to death. Our job was to sit in the room at the end of the house and wait for eggs to come down the conveyor belt from inside the house. From there you clean them of blood and crap and place them pointy end down into big plastic crates where they are then put into a huge refrigerator to prolong their hatching. Then, some guy in a truck comes and picks them up. As much as it was all against my own personal beliefs, I helped out as much as I could, because it is what makes it possible for my grandparents to pay their bills.
Here is the inside of the chicken house:
Here is the place that we worked (my grandma and MM):
This is a dirty egg (Katie�s hand):
We also played with my five-year-old, adopted cousin, Chynna Caper Katlynn (who everyone calls Katie). Katie is from China. This summer my aunt is adopting a sister for Katie. Katie is the sweetest little girl. When I ask her, �How come you are so cute?�
She answers, �I am not cute. I�m tough.� And she is. She rough and tumbles through it all. And she makes my grandma so happy. She is one of my very favorite little girls in the world.
Here is K working in the chicken house:
Here is Katie with my grandpa:
And after we got done helping out and playing with K, MM and I would go up to my dad�s property and watch movies with him. Here my dad would astound us with his beautiful antiques and stories.
My dad showing MM his broom-handle mauser (my dad collects all these amazing old guns):
My dad standing next to his phonograph:
An antique bookcase of old books, Edison-age light bulbs, glass door knobs, etc.:
M looking through a Victorian Age, 3-D view finder:
Here are some other photos:
My aunt�s husband, Katie, my aunt, and me:
The farm and its cows:
MM eating out of a trough like the true cow that he is:
MM and my family�s dog, Sasha, on my dad�s road:
Sheri, my step mom, and my dad:
My step brother�s amazingly beautiful girlfriend, her cute, little girl, me, and my step brother, Jacob:
