At least that’s what they say.
Each part of the midwest has its own fickle weather, prone to change swiftly, and often passionate in its delivery. I can recall recognizing that first really warm day of spring. A young boy in the Ozarks lives for sun-drenched days on countless adventures over the farm. On one particular day such as this, I stood at the top of our small pasture looking down at the farm and outbuildings.
The sun had begun to slink behind the hills, and the evening chill was knocking at the door. I ran full tilt down the incline toward grandma’s house and probably freshly baked bread. My thrift store outfit and worn out shoes carried the last of my energy for the day. No care in the world. Until I hit the electric fence. It caught me right at the waist. It happened so quickly, but I remember the minor jolts of electricity as my body sporadically completed the circuit to the ground during my tumble. In a split second my impact had exhausted the slack in the wire. It slingshotted me to the ground directly on my back. The joy of the day, as well as the air in my lungs, evacuated.
In my youth I didn’t think about the future too often. After graduating high school I had no real plans. I decided the week before classes started to attend institute of higher learning. I enrolled in a community college about an hour away from home. Tuition was cheap, and it wasn’t my hometown. Occasionally I attended classes, but mostly I played music and hung out with friends. Without direction, it was difficult to see reason to apply myself. I refer to this as my “first fifteen minutes of college.”
My best friend had jumped into the big time: state school. While his tuition would seem to indicate otherwise, his college experience was just as lackadaisical as mine. We both stopped attending our schools, met up in Joplin, and found our new residence on the living room floor of a two-bedroom apartment. The couch was already spoken for by a fellow drifter. The landlords became aware that there were twice the amount of tenants as the lease allowed for. Us stowaways had to go. We drove around Joplin the evening we found out we were to be homeless, trying to figure out what to do with ourselves.
Call it the pride of youth or blame the stars (apparently I’m a stubborn Taurus), but going back home to our parents wasn’t an option. We didn’t rightly know what alternative options were, but we weren’t going home. We spent a few cold and boring months sleeping in a ‘93 Chevy Lumina in a Wal-Mart parking lot. We couldn’t lean the seats back because that’s where my guitar gear and his bass rig were nestled.
Sometimes life will knock the wind out of you. There’s nothing wrong with laying there, watching the clouds, and collecting your wits. Sometimes the only plan you’ve got is getting through the day.
-Mississippi Jake
