I didn’t even know Santee featured an Indian mound. We were looking for somewhere to go. My middle child had driven up two days earlier. We’d had pizza from Za’s, homemade gumbo, a couple of quiet nights pickin’ and grinnin’, and had to cancel celestial themed activities because of night sky clouds.
A night out with Terry later that last evening was scheduled, but we needed something else. A Road Trip seemed like the obvious answer. A Google search for native mounds, followed by an elimination process, settled the issue.
The Landlord didn’t understand venturing out on a rainy December morning to look at a weed covered dirt pile. But she doesn’t understand taking a journey for the journey’s sake. She will be first to sign up should a Star Trek beaming device become available. She’s a destination person for sure.
Chad’s DNA matches mine pretty close. It doesn’t mean we believe the same things across the board. We just have similarities. I’ve seen a younger version of myself in Chad for many years, but his life experiences have differred from mine, and that likely altered his outlook as time passed—if that makes any sense. It does make for interesting conversation, though.
So spending two hours driving the less traveled roads to a specific place, then spending a few minutes just wandering around, before heading home on a different route makes perfect sense—at least to us. The journey vs the destination.
We can listen to Stevie Ray Vaughn followed by Grayson Capps, followed by Ray Wylie Hubbard— and ponder subjects as they appear in our respective brains. What’s the difference between nudity and brief nudity in movies? Are ancient guitar players better than modern ones? Is stupidity overtaking the world, and if so, why? Why do politicians claim things like Rock and Roll, video games, and sketchy friends will alter a fragile child’s morality but never consider that good influences fail to reverse a backsliding trend?
Once, many years ago, Chad and I discovered the concept for self driving vehicles while heading to New Orleans. Well before GPS, we assumed that roadway paint and sensors on front and back bumpers would make this work. The only details we missed were the actual specifications and how we would profit. Now we’re both irritated by a commercial where a driver switches his four door truck to auto pilot so he can air drum “We Will Rock You.” We almost made history.
We found the Santee mound and attached state park. We walked a bit in the mist, took a few pictures, and tried without success to capture a majestic, moss-covered oak near the parking area. There was no available angle from which to take a proper picture.
We enjoyed unhurried conversation, quality time together, listening to music that links us—sharing the memories conjured by those tunes. We traveled along sleepy, forgotten highways with slow, steady heartbeats.
And we were on time meeting Terry, where we enjoyed another couple hours of similar activities. Our world’s filled with wondrous conveniences. People spend serious money and effort searching for the path to Nirvana.
We found it on Highway 261, heading to Santee.
Leave a Reply