Old Lodge Skins : Am I still in this world?
Jack Crabb : Yes, Grandfather.
Old Lodge Skins : I was afraid of that. Well, sometimes the magic works. Sometimes, it doesn’t.
There’s little reason to believe I am a magician. Nor do I count on supernatural influences. But this wise old Indian managed to see some amount of magic as a natural element of his people‘s, the „Human Beings‘“, lives. And apparently he did so without expectation of a specific, or successful, outcome. (O.k., success in this example would be a doubtful attribution considering that the old chief had intended to pass away that night and failed). That kind of magic may or may not work. Either way, it is magic.
This is an eclectic, amateur, souvenir epilogue of several travels along or near U.S. route 40, dating back to the early-mid 1990ies. Something on how I got there may occasionally be included. There will be no rapid progress, since I have to work for a living. But going slow seems appropriate for this topic. If you’d prefer to arrive quickly, then the multi-lane freeway probably suits your needs better than a decades-old (and in places crumpling) rural highway, and I’ll be pleased to drop you off at one of the upcoming interchanges. But I suggest you stay on and we’ll give it a try.
Magic? Let’s find out.