Like a Rock on a Stick--Get the Habit of Seeing in the Dark

I still remember elements of a disagreement over words with one or both of my brothers when I was about seven years old. They are five and seven years older than me. The argument began like this: "Don't just sit there like a rock on a stick! Get going!" I was urging our dog Ranger to leave his spot in the garden where he was sunning himself and crushing my precious pumpkin plant. I had started it from seed and brought it home from my second-grade class to plant in the backyard. One or both of them overheard me and snickered, "Rock on a stick? Hahaha! Don't you mean bump on a log?" My view of the world was taking shape when well-meaning people at home in America sang songs that asked questions about where the flowers had gone. That war in Vietnam stole a piece of my childhood that can never be replaced. A rock on a stick seemed appropriate to a seven-year-old child who was trying, though not always succeeding, to maintain some stability when Daddy went away. The only contacts I (we) had with him for a year were the sound of his voice on reel-to-reel tapes and letters sent back and forth through the snail mail. I figure that my brothers must have been missing him too.

We (SAM and I) returned to our old stomping grounds in the Midwest a couple of weeks ago on a mission: family to visit and business opportunities to explore. After a few days of family time and some business meetings, we headed east on Highway 146 through Southern Illinois on our way to Greenville, Kentucky. Of course, we had to stop for a while and visit our favorite cave. I've been mulling over that visit and its significance at this particular time in my life and at this point in history when various world views are coming out of hiding and being dragged into the light of the sun. Plato attempted to explain the importance of needing to know one's place in the world in his Cave Allegory.

Our POTUS, God bless him, is facing some thorny situations right now, and I don't envy his responsibilities one bit. Sure, he has an agenda--who doesn't?--but I believe his heart is in the right place. I imagine that it beats a little faster every time he hears about another casualty, a Daddy or--this time--Mommy, who won't be coming home to that family left behind to wait and worry.

We spent several hours at Cave-in-Rock, exploring not only the trails in the park and the famous cave but also some mighty fine food at Kaylor's Cafe. The Sunday buffet includes fried chicken and catfish, along with freshly prepared salads and vegetables, mashed potatoes and gravy, hush puppies, yeast rolls, and a variety of rich desserts. You can order from the menu, but the buffet is worth every penny. SAM agreed with me that it rivals one of his mom's Sunday dinners, and she had a reputation for putting on quite a spread, back in the day.

After dinner, a leisurely walk along the bluffs overlooking the Ohio River helps the food settle and reveals some spectacular views of the water and the neighboring state--actually Commonwealth--of Kentucky. Before we departed on the ferry across the river, SAM got to talking to a local man who was casting his net along the bank for shad--bait fish, in case you were wondering. Turns out the man knew SAM's dad, back in the day, when they would fish from atop one of the Ohio River lock-and-dams. The man was also a Navy vet who had served a tour of duty at Pensacola NAS. Small world, isn't it?

Cave-in-Rock is a friendly--if sleepy--little town. I just hope the handwriting on the wall concerning the pending climate legislation doesn't render it completely catatonic. Its future depends on that traffic you saw in the first photo, the one with the barge carrying coal downriver.

Someone in charge of building the little riverfront park must have been thinking of warmer climes. We all know that pelicans don't live in Illinois. Or do they?

Everyone must take a ferry ride here at least once--you really have no choice if you're traveling east to Kentucky. The trip across the river gives you a chance to appreciate the slow rhythm of life on the water while you wait for the barges and other business of life to pass by. No one seems to be in a hurry here. People smile at each other and wave hello and goodbye to each other and even to strangers. They seem to realize that life is too short to be "strangers" with their neighbors, familiar or not.

Before we traveled to visit the cave and before we boarded that ferry to Kentucky, while SAM was meeting with someone who might become an important part of our future, I took some time to reflect on some other business of life.

A veterans' cemetery like the one at Bloomfield in Missouri tugs at your heart, especially if you have a loved one resting there.

"Wherefore each of you, when his turn comes, must go down to the general underground abode and get the habit of seeing in the dark. When you have acquired the habit, you will see ten thousand times better than the inhabitants of the den, and you will know what the several images are, and what they represent, because you have seen the beautiful and just and good in their truth. And thus our State, which is also yours, will be a reality, and not a dream only, and will be administered in a spirit unlike that of other States, in which men fight with one another about shadows only and are distracted in the struggle for power, which in their eyes is a great good. Whereas the truth is that the State in which the rulers are most reluctant to govern is always the best and most quietly governed, and the State in which they are most eager, the worst." --Socrates in Plato's Republic, Book VII, concerning the Allegory of the Cave--