gerald2003.txt

( For the benefit of few )

more flotsam

This piece of writing is dated June 15, 2000. I only vaguely remember writing it. Maybe you remember reading it.

FADE IN

EXT. DESERT - DAY
A dusty, abandoned road in the middle of the American Southwest.
It's a hot day -- the haze makes everything seem surreal, golden, shimmering.

CAPTION: August 1959

Out of the dust comes a late-50s PLYMOUTH. Gray yet covered in the thick
red dust of the desert. Behind the wheel is a middle-aged, balding white
man we shall come to know as AUSTIN WIGGIN JR.

The car passes THE SCENE OF AN ACCIDENT. It's a pretty bad one, and
there's already a POLICEMAN at the scene, tending to a DYING INDIAN.

The car now passes by the scene IN SLOW-MOTION. We see the DYING INDIAN
reflected in the shiny HUBCAP.

The poor man turns and cranes his neck to FOLLOW THE CAR as it passes by,
all time suspended while the car goes on through.

We watch as the car fades off into the distance, sending an out-of-towner
plume of dust behind it.

CUT TO

INT. WIGGINS' CAR - DAY
Looking through the windshield at AUSTIN WIGGIN JR, the devoted family man.
Pipe clenched firmly in teeth and looking straight ahead at the horizon.  If
he'd thought about stopping, the notion had passed even quicker than the car;
he's got places to go and people to see.

AUSTIN glances up into the rear-view mirror.

CUT TO
INT. WIGGINS' CAR - DAY
A view into the mirror itself.  Reflected for us to see is the back seat
of the car, containing the THREE WIGGIN DAUGHTERS: HELEN, BETTY and DOT.
We shall come to know them as the supergroup THE SHAGGS in about 15 pages'
time.  For now, however, they merely accompany their father on a
cross-desert trip to we don't know where.  All three of them are also
sound asleep, even though it's midday.

CUT TO
INT. WIGGINS' CAR - DAY
Back to looking at AUSTIN driving again, eyes back on the road once more.


                            AUSTIN WIGGIN JR
  Just as well.  Don't want 'em to see anything that might bother 'em.


CUT TO
EXT. DESERT - DAY
We watch, once more, as the car roars off down the road away from us. As
the TITLE LOGO ("THE SHAGGS") fades up onscreen, so do the opening strains of
THE SHAGGS' biggest hit, MY PAL FOOT FOOT.

(no subject)

I proposed to Barbara that we go on "The Pie Trip" -- just take off and travel the country and "eat pie." - Bill Windsor

I'm not really one who likes spreading memes unless I'm creating them myself, but I also like pie.

Bill and Barbara Windsor are on a quest -- a most noble quest, indeed -- to eat pie in every state of the Union. It's one gigantic pie-eatin' roadtrip, it is, and that can't be all bad. I may not agree with Bill and Barbara's politics, but I definitely see eye-to-eye with their love of pie and love of the American road.

Their rules are simple, good, and remind me of several of my own road trip rules:

1. See the real world.  Stay off the interstate highways.
   
2. Eat pie.  Eat where the locals eat.  Avoid franchised restaurants.  "Slow food" rather than fast food.
   
3. See the sites that others miss.  No need to visit many theme parks. [Well, I don't know if theme parks are such a bad thing... -dS.]
   
4. Plan to enjoy the unexpected.  When something catches your eye, check it out.
   
5. Try new things -- new places, new people, new food, new experiences.
   
6. Stop and smell the roses...or whatever.  No need to rush; enjoy the journey.
   
7. Think local.  Listen to local radio stations; read local papers; and watch local TV.
   
8. Make the best of every situation,  If it seems boring, look again.
   
9. Be smart.  Be safe.  Be prepared.  Exercise every day.  Keep the gas tank full.
   
10. Preserve the experience.  Maintain a journal; keep records; and take a lot of photos.
    

They've been travelling since April and have hit about 32 states. Not only do they take boatloads of pictures everywhere they go, but they rate dang near everything from the best alligator to the worst Elvis (Hollywood, CA.  "The only thing that looked a little like Elvis was the white jeweled costume.") So what's the best pie, you ask? A key lime pie in Hobe Sound, Florida. Worst? Blueberry pie in Winterset, Iowa.

Wonder when they'll make it up Boston way. I'd have a slice with 'em.