Chase Encounters of the Third Kind
I went in the opposite direction, towards a town that was on the other end of the state park. I was feeling very nostalgic as the rurality reminded me of living in West Virginia from 1967 to 1970. So many hills and rivers and roads through them. My backyard in West Virginia had a deep ravine. I love the mountains. It is in my blood. Couldn't live where I was, though. Far too isolated from other things I like such as ethnic food and culture, etc. I am a suburban person in the end. My little patch of grass. Close to the river, work, conveniences, and Lancaster City. Not far from Philly or BMore. A compromise of cosmopolitanity and country.
Pennsylvania is like a see-saw with Pittsburgh and Philadelphia on the respective ends. Both cities wield enormous sway in all facets, with Central Pa. in the middle being quite rural on the whole with pockets of urbanity. Typically, small economically depressed cities, former manufacturing and industrial hubs. Now shells hollowed out. Rural Pennsylvania, after a crust of suburbia, surrounds these shells of formerly prosperous smaller cities. Trump shouted into that void and country people felt heard, not made fun of and ridiculed, and dismissed. Democratic elite smart-assery had better stop. You created this monster and you are going to have to slay it by returning to your working-class roots. Otherwise, gerrymandering-geniuses Republicans will continue their reign, unstable and corrupted as it is. The opiod addiction, rural America's crack epidemic, is wiping out a generation that doesn't have enough hope to say no the first time. For, the time to refuse opiods is the first time.
I feel sorry that rural American bought the devilish Donald's forked-tongue message but I understand it. Most people in rural America are confused by a world run by corporations who don't give much of a damn about them. Besides turning them upside down to shake out any remaining coins in their pockets. As I was driving by a house, a couple waved. Thought it was a sweet and kind gesture. Most country folk are not hard-Alt Right True Believers. They just don't get how the world has left them in the rear view mirror, not even waving back as it pulls away. To be ignored is perhaps the greatest insult of all. To not even merit a gesture. For the record, I did wave back.
I came up to the end of my travels, crossed a bridge with a 9 foot clearance (was afraid that I might smash my bike on the roof rack), and came upon a couple walking a beagle. The man was wearing a New York Yankees cap which I found amusing. Even out in the far reaches where cell phone coverage didn't reach with my ATT smartphone. Now, the West Virginia puzzle was complete, for I had a beagle when I was a kid living in West Virginia. Beagles are rural dogs. They need space to work off their energy and to be able to bay without riling the neighbors.
My beagle, Gus, came to a tragic end after being shot. The official story was a hunter thought he was a deer. I believe it was a neighbor who got tired of Gus going through his trash cans for scraps and snapped .22 style. Gus was not a smart dog. The most irksome and troubled dog of all time. The theory in the family is that he had been treated as royality by my mom until my older brother Mike was born, then he was demoted back to mere mortal dog status. The fall from the throne to doghouse was too much to bear and Gus mourned the loss through incessant existential-ache barking for the rest of his days. He truly was a dog that only a boy could love.
I saw Chase first. I pulled up to the couple and asked if I could pet him. They were welcoming and amused that I would stop my car to do so. I gave Chase a deluxe pet job. I pulled out my wallet to demonstrate my beagle cred. I have an image of a beagle on one of my credit cards. I call it Beagle Bucks. I seriously get a Beagle High after petting a beagle. A mere touch is good for an hour of uplifted spirits. A sustained pet lasts for 24 hours. More effective than Paxil (not that I would know).
I can't describe fully how it makes me feel. It brings me a joy like no other. It is only beagles that have this effect. I like dogs in general but love beagles. Crazy, irrational, exuberant love. Kind of like Jesus's love for sinners (all of us). Going to the Cross for ridiculous humanity, bearings its shame, triumphing over it. As if on command and suffused by my affection activation energy, Chase got up on his hind legs and launched into one of the most satisfying "Aroooos" I have ever heard. I was lucky to catch him with the photo. That baying will echo in my ears for eternity. The picture tells a thousand barks. Gus lives!
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