Eight Feet Deep

Returning home this afternoon to Beaumont, Texas, from a couple of days camping in the Angelina National Forest made me realize I should have just stayed.

As my friend, who was camping with me, ran back to Nacogdoches for a few hours yesterday to run some errands, I was left practically alone inside the little campground where we landed known as Boykin Springs. The wind was blowing ever gently yesterday and if you haven’t ever listened to the sound of pine trees whistling in the breeze in the quiet of the woods, then you have really missed something grand. While I planned to camp out only two days, I began thinking seriously about spending another day camped out.

But no. I had to come back to Beaumont, the city which should have as its motto: “You can’t get to there from here.”

For whatever reasons the city government let the streets in all but its best neighborhoods deteriorate to a state of maddening neglect. Now all of a sudden, they want to fix everything all at once. I suppose it is so they can tear it down again and make most of downtown Beaumont a lake, which is what I gather our city moms and dads want to do.

On the way back to my living spaces from downtown here is the construction, repair or other public works work I encountered. Broadway by the post office, construction. Broadway at Martin Luther King, right lane blocked on MLK for the creeping constructionism that is Calder Avenue. I turned on North Street and then hooked a right on First Street. Several blocks up, I went to turn on Ashley, which would be the shortest path of least resistance but city trucks were picking up huge limbs that someone cut down. So I continued onto Evalon, crossed Seventh Street and proceeded to Tenth Street where I would finally turn onto Ashley Avenue.

But no. That’s not happening. This lady in a hard hat and fluorescent vest comes up and said I would have to wait quite a while to get on the street. Apparently, they had resurfaced the street and were waiting to roll it down with one of those big rolling pin machines.

You get the drift though. And there is not a sign one except a sign in the middle of the street saying to turn here to get to the Exxon station on Calder, the street on which the convenience store is located and now is completely shut down in front of the Exxon station due to what I like to call the “creeping constructionism of Calder Avenue.” They are tearing the street up from downtown all the way to I-10 N-S.

The City of Beaumont apparently thinks I, nor thousands of others, have anything better to do than guess which street is going to be open when (most often our guess is not good enough). The only silver lining is that the streets are being improved, but one has to wonder if those streets which were fixed will still be in good shape by the time they finish and subsequently turn downtown into a redneck version of Venice.

Next time I go camping and have an internal debate of whether to stay or go, I think I know how I shall choose.

It’s amazing. My phone doesn’t work out here in the Angelina National Forest of East Texas but my wireless Internet does. Oh well, who needs phones — or the Internet for that matter — when you’re out in the woods?

Even though I am on vacation I worked some today wearing my hat as a freelance writer and, actually getting paid for writing. It was pretty enjoyable. I need to do it more. Tomorrow, I head for the woods and sleeping in the great outdoors. I can hardly wait.

Normally I like to stay clear when writing of religion. I find that too often, the people who I would like to think would be the most tolerant because of their religious beliefs are sometimes the most intolerant when it comes to others’ take on those beliefs. In short, a lot of people can’t take a joke when it comes to religion.

With that said I really am going to touch on the fringe of religion because the controversy which I am bringing up only partly has its roots in religion in one way and not another. I speak of the hoopla concerning the upcoming commencement address by President Barack Obama at Notre Dame University in Indiana.

Simply put, some Catholics don’t want Obama to speak at the Catholic-run university because of his supporting pro-choice. When I say some I mean not a majority. A Quinnipiac University poll released Thursday showed that 56 percent of American voters and 60 percent among Catholic voters think that Notre Dame should not withdraw Obama’s invitation to speak at commencement. Of the latter group, 49 percent of Catholics who attend religious services weekly say Obama should be allowed to speak while 43 percent of that group disagree. Of those who attend services more infrequently 70 percent of those Catholic say Obama should not have his invitation withdrawn as opposed to 26 percent who do not.

A CBS News story today points out how a vocal minority, including outside anti-abortion agitators, do not care if they ruin what is a special day for hundreds of students and their families. People such as anti-abortion activist Randall Terry would like to see the commencement disrupted to get a point of view across.

There is a parallel with this mob rule by the minority right now and the current desperation shown among the extreme right wing elements of the Republican Party. The mindset is that if they yell and scream and hold their breath until they turn blue and take their ball and go home they’ll wind up getting what they want. In short, it’s a childish position.

While the right to free speech is among this nation’s most treasured, the way some people use that right is just downright unbecoming.

My new lightweight tent is now safely in my hands.

I do not think of package tracking numbers as something of mere convenience. Those little numbers are essential these days as so much material is zoomed here and there. So I had been watching my tent’s progress via the Internet since leaving Kansas City on Monday until its delivery this morning in Beaumont at 9:43 a.m.

Wait! It said delivery. I checked my abode’s office and it hadn’t been delivered there.

I walk back to my laptop to figure out where the package might have gone. I have had some personal items delivered to my office. And I have had some work items delivered to my residence.

So I called the automated phone number for UPS since I couldn’t figure how to get into their system, being that the tent’s manufacturer provided a link to track the package from UPS. Finally, I call UPS, give the computerized lady my tracking number and determined the package had been delivered exactly two blocks up the street.

For some reason, people aren’t the best about posting their street number up on their building, which you would think a business at least would do if they want to be found. But I found the place eventually and the lady said if I hadn’t come by she would have gone looking for me because I had to be somewhere close. Compounding the initial confusion was that my name was the same as her father-in-law. We all had a good laugh.

Now all I have to do is round up my other supplies and next week I can head out for the national forest where a friend of mine and I are supposed to meet up. The particular campground I am seeking is small and first-come, first-served but since it will be early in the week maybe there will be some spots open. Like a good Boy Scout that I never was, though, I am prepared with alternatives. We shall see what happens.

Now I guess I better get cracking on some things.