Date: Thu, 13 Feb 1997 13:04:25 -0500 From: Charlie Ford Subject: A Grand View ****First let me say that I know most of my post suffer from the dreaded spelling mistakes that irritate the more meticulous of you out there in listserv land. I have never been much of a spelling bee champ, in fact I was the bumble instead of the bee. ***I sincerely apologize for all the mistakes and the lack of succinct writing that many of you may be used to. If it gets to irritating please refrain from reading the post. I am not insulted, nor will I ever be. I know my shortcomings, and they are many. Winslow to Vegas: When I left Winslow I was feeling rather angry and rather sorrowful. I had enjoyed seeing the man that was once revered by all in my family as a man with a calling from God the almighty. But at the same time I was so hurt by all the things about him that had come to my knowledge from his daughter. I was also bothered greatly by the treatment this elderly man, no matter what he had done, was suffering. As I drove I tried to concentrate on the fact that once again I was free of the uneasy setting I had just visited. All in all that is exactly what it was, a visit and nothing more. It took me a while to reconcile my mind to be easy about walking away. The fact is that I cannot save the world, but I can try. I drove along and finally became relaxed by the hum that only a VW bus can offer. It is sort of like turning on a fan to help one drop off to sleep, it lulls you into a different frame of mind. I arrived at Redlake Trading Post and met Joe Petrillo and that in itself was a different world all together. Joe used to be a bodyguard for the celebrities of the world. Stars such as Jimmy Cagney, Katherine Hepburn, The Stones, and Van Halen. I am also wondering just how Kat Hepburn fit into his resume, I don't remember her doing a knee slide across stage while wailing on a Fender strat. But she is one of my favorite actresses from the old school so I was as equally impressed by the mention. Joe is a man of about 60 years old. he said he had bought the Trading post in the early 80's and had used the money from his celeb career to buy it. Essentially he had gotten a bit burned out on the sex, drugs, and rock n roll so he came to the south rim of the canyon and had found the quiet he wanted. While talking and after introducing ourselves Joe mentioned two other guest at the hostel, and that one of them was from Georgia. It was already dark and cold and growing much more of both so I decided I would pay the $8.00 and stay the night in the warmth of a nice room. There was also other comforts like a common room that had a TV complete with satellite, ashtrays fro those smoking feens, and a microwave for those that indulged in the act of nuking food. It was shangra la and I had Georgia folk to talk to. Hee Da Hee! I settled into my room complete with two bunk beds, sheets and blankets, and a heater one could turn high enough to battle the raging fires of hell. I jacked that sucker up to the sauna setting and prepared to start my tan. I lasted about ten minutes then set it back to the Florida setting. Getting a little bored I walked down to the common room and flipped on the TV complete with satellite. I sat with the remote in hand, a power I havenšt felt since storing my set back in my mom's garage. A remote is an amazing thing but it certainly doesn't help one to make a solid choice and then stay with it. I believe it emits a certain amount of electricity and that charge sends signals of curiosity to the brain. These signals in turn make a person flick that little channel button about every 15 seconds. The better the batteries are, the faster you flick. I just hope they never put 110 plugs on the damn thing, the channels would just fly by like a raging river of static. After about 15 or 20 minutes of channel exploration the door flew open and in stepped a 6 foot white haired man wearing sweats and boasting a voice almost as deep as my own. He scoped me out, stepped forward and said in his deepest voice, not to mention southern drawl, "zat your van out there?", I said "yeah", and stood up to meet his voice and boisterous nature. He announced while extending his open hand "I'm John Guyton from Atlanta". I introduced myself and he explained that he was tired and needed to go to the room but he would be back in a while and we would exchange lies. In Georgia folks are naturally big even when their bodies are small. Anyone who has ever known many of us from that blessed part of the country know that our bark is usually much bigger than our bite. We are raised to be big and friendly, that is just the way life is. John never made it back to the common room, I think he fell asleep. Although his traveling buddy did. Peter Keasley from London, England strolled into the room and his best queens English introduced himself and set a 3 gallon bottle of gin on the table, at least it seemed that damn big. He asked if I wanted a drink. Now I am not much of a liquor drinker but this man was from another country and I have always wanted to sit and talk with one of the queens subjects about matters of life in England. We sat and talked about three hours. We spoke about US and English politics, religion, sex, drugs, rock n roll, and good gin. After three hours, several gin and tonics, and a pack of cigarettes we decided to retire to our respective rooms of abode. The next morning I rolled out of the rack with a nice headache and a bad need to relieve my bladder. I slipped on my pants, recruited two elves to help carry my brain, and headed through the cold hard air to the bathroom which at that time felt as if it were about 5 miles away and growing farther with each step I took. After three hours (dog life time) I made it. I washed my face and looked in the mirror at my eyes that resembled roadmaps of Arizona. So I stood there and decided my route for the day. I walked to the store to secure that free cup of coffee that was bought along with the nights stay. Ah, straight, black, caffinated coffee in a large non recyclable styro-foam cup. What a treat for a heady morning. Morale of the story; quit while you can still speak without slurring. As I said I am not much of a drinking man. Joe was minding the store and preparing for the day when I approached the counter. I sat and talked to him while I nursed the coffee with great reverence for the soothing affect it was having. Peter came in looking chipper and being every bit as talkative as he was the night before. Then John entered and asked if I would join them for breakfast. I said I would and off we went to the common room. Cornbeef hash on wheat bread with butter and cheese makes one fine start for the day. I sat and slowly ate; Peter sat and slowly ate; and John sat and made up for all the talk he had missed last night. He talked the whole time. That is in between the five sandwiches and three cups of coffee he wolfed down. He told us of his visits to Europe in 1985 then in 1992. He told us of his family, his friends, his life's work, and his love for the great "state of mind" that is Georgia. John and Peter headed off to visit Tucson. I finished packing and headed north on Hwy. 64 toward the south rim of the canyon. I drove about thirty miles and finally reached the park. I entered the park and drove another 5 miles or so to the first overlook. I was awe inspired. I stood on the rim and looked into the biggest canyon I have ever laid my eyes on. I have seen pictures of this place but never have I been so overwhelmed by any one piece of nature. I felt like I was nothing more than a speck standing with other specks. The Grand Canyon is titled properly. It is massive, it is humongous, it is so beautiful that one not only feels small but becomes small. I wish I could find the words to describe this marvel. I can only try and describe the things I saw. I looked down in the canyon and saw the Colorado river threading it's way through the basin. It looked as if it were nothing more than a small drain ditch, which these days I guess in a way it is if you think about it. I saw ravens drifting on the currents that flow up the canyon wall. These large black/blue birds only flapped their wings to maintain balance. I saw level land all of a sudden drop off into a vast expanse of sheer face cliffs. Some dropped a couple hundred feet before regaining any slope or incline. While standing on the rim I heard languages from the orient, the islands, and from Europe. They along with all of the Americans stood and marveled at the site before them. They snapped Nikons, and Haslblads, and Kodaks. They expressed their feelings with oooohs and ahhhhs just like all the others that stood on the precipice. All of us seeing this landmark of the Americas. I stood and thought just how great our country is. All of these people from different lands and cultures came to see this, the greatest country on the earth. I walked back to my bus, crawled in the back and lay down. I read the booklet provided by the parks service. I saw that on further down the road was a village. I drove on and eventually came to the main park of the south rim. More people, more camera's, and more languages greeted me as I stepped out of the Mothership. There was a trail that led up the side of the canyon so I decided I would take a walk. I came to a place where a jagged rock extends out over the abyss. I stepped out and sat down to admire this windy place. For some reason it made me want to whistle or sing or something. I whistled and looked and enjoyed. Finally I emerged from my new found perch and walked back to the bus. I got my guitar, an old Yamaha I had brought with me for relaxation. I walked back to the perch only to find someone else enjoying the space I had previously inhabited. I sat down on a park bench and commenced to pluck the strings. No particular song, just something slow and easy to match the way I felt. A lady walked up and for some strange reason complimented the way I played. She was a senior citizen and as we talked she introduced herself as being from Lookout Mountain, Tennessee. I told her I was from Georgia and we started talking about all sorts of things like the canyon and home. Eventually her husband joined us, and then two of their friends that were also from the same area. The second couple were as nice as the first, and the conversation led to occupations. The second gentleman was a retired 3 star general. He and his wife are now involved in the NASA space center. They were all great to talk with and expressed their mutual feelings for me. I went back to the bus and headed back down the road from whence I had entered. it was a peaceful drive but somewhat sad. I was leaving one of the most beautiful places I had ever visited. The Grand Canyon is so stupendous and exciting. At the same time it is relaxing and peaceful. I would never forget this place, the sites I had seen, or the folks I had met. Life was good on the 2nd to the lower floor of heaven. Thanks for tolerating my ramblings, Charlie Ford "79" Transporter, dressed for the road The Mothership The"Turning 40 Nostalgic VW Service Tour, and Search for the Beginning of Wind". www.armory.com/~y21cvb/charlie/charlie.html "Wider still and wider.....shall thy bounds be set"