Home again! I arrived in Denver the day after my last posting, then was turned into the beer man for the rest of the week. I picked up a load of Coors in Golden, Colorado and delivered it Sunday morning in Elkton, Virginia. I was fortunate enough to be able to spend the afternoon with my wife's aunt and uncle near Rickmond before picking up another load of beer in Williamsburg heading for Syracuse, New York. This time it was Anheuser Bush. Two days later found me hauling another load of Bush beer toward Michigan before finally getting a load down to Atlanta, which I delivered first thing this morning. So, here I am, nearly six thousand miles after leaving home, finally sitting in my own bedroom typing this message. I will not be home for long, however. I have to leave out again early Monday morning, but I will enjoy the short visit with Teresa and the kids.
I wrote a poem that my wife is fond of after one of my too brief visits home. You will find it posted below.

LEAVING

Leaving is hardest,
The morning of,
Yet harder still,
The knowledge,
That time heals
Not the pain of
Separation from
The ones I cherish.
The memory of a tear,
Hanging in her eye,
A front of courage,
Determined not to
Show the sadness
In her heart caused
By my absence.
The sound of a child's
Voice hangs in my
Ear, asking why I
Have to leave
Tomorrow, but I
Love you anyway
Daddy.

It has not been the best of weeks. I woke up Wednesday morning around four o'clock in Grand Island, Nebraska feeling like an Eskimo. It was around thirty degrees and the heater in my truck had decided not to work. Fortunately there was a Freightliner dealership nearby and they fixed me up fairly quickly.
I ran into a few snow flurries in Nebraska, but nothing much to get excited over. It was actually quite nice and warm out in Denver when I got there. As I write this post, I am sitting in Harrisburg, Virginia in the middle of the Shanandoah Valley. I left Colorado with 44,000 pounds of Coors beer Thursday afternoon heading this way. I don't yet know where I will be going next, since I don't deliver this load until tomorrow morning. I am scheduled to be home next Saturday, though.
I have no poems to post at this time, as I have been doing little other than driving and sleeping over the past couple of days, but I will be sure to have a verse or two to post the next time I sign on.

I was lazy today. I only drove 589 miles. As I write this note, I am sitting at a Bosselman's truckstop in Grand Island, Nebraska on a very dreary, cold, rainy evening. My dog, Pistol, is upset with me because I have not given him enough attention today, but he will get over it. That's the wonderful thing about dogs. They show us the true meaning of unconditional love.
The rain will probably turn to snow before I arrive in Denver tomorrow afternoon, but I doubt it will be cold enough to cause any problems. It still amazes me that snow can fall in October, yet I will always remember the first blizzard I saw in Wyoming. That was toward the end of October, I believe.
I am getting my first book of poetry published this year, if anyone is interested. It is entitled, Word Portraits. It will be available probably in about a month on Amazon and at the publisher's website, www.publishamerica.com. The editor sent me the final proof pages today.
As Pistol and I criss-cross this great land of ours, I am often in awe at the the beauty God has given us. At the same time, I am sadened to see the perversion that seems to prevail in many places across America. Billboards litter the roadsides advertising all manner of sin and vice. The saddest statement, I believe, is that most of these signs can be found in the heart of the Bible Belt. What does that say about Christians, like myself, who live in this area?

Vice in America

Vice prevails,
In America today,
Screaming from billboards,
From sea to shining sea.
Casino! Casino!
Give your fortune away.
XXX!-Totally nude!
Pornography abounds.
Sell your soul to Satan,
For lies your just reward.
"Don't do drugs,"
One sign reads,
Other vices are harmless,
We are led to believe.
Others hate us,
For our perverted ways,
Can we blame them?
Our freedoms gone astray.

Restless Wanderer

Restless wanderer,
Traversing the land,
Happy in the solitude,
Lost in the miles behind,
Gazing to the miles ahead,
Toward wonders unknown-
Sights unbeheld.
Restless wanderer,
Traversing the mind,
Thoughts and illusions,
Soothe the aching soul,
Dreaming of what could have been,
Yet relishing in what is.
Restless wanderer,
Traversing this life,
A life of sorrows,
Happiness, joy, and pain,
Create a wanderer,
Doing the best he can.

Since blogging is new to me, I hope you will bear with me until I get the hang of it. I drive an eighteen-wheeler over the road, and i thought some of you might be interested in my experiences out here in this great country of ours. As a Southern boy, born and raised in Georgia, I never really expected to see the things I have gotten to see since becoming a driver. To date, I have visited forty-five of the fifty states, and I have only been driving for thirteen months now. Let me say, that most of this land is nothing like Georgia.
As I write, I am sitting in a truckstop in Minooka, Illinois, just a few miles west of Chicago. Tomorrow, I will be heading toward Denver. I should arrive sometime Wednesday afternoon, if all goes well. From there, I will be driving out to Seattle, Washington. Like I said, I see a lot during the course of a week.
I travel with my six-year-old Shetland Sheepdog named Pistol. He keeps me company while I am away from my wife and three children.
I write poetry as a way of describing the things I see while on the road, and I expect that much of what I post will be poems. If you do not enjoy poetry, I feel sorry for you, as I believe poetry is food for the soul. I began writing poems as a way of sharing this country with my family. I hope some of you find this blog entertaining, and hope to hear from some of you soon.