Date: Thu, 13 Feb 1997 13:04:25 -0500
From: Charlie Ford <cford@mindspring.com>
Subject: A Grand View

****First let me say that I know most of my post suffer from the dreaded
spelling mistakes that irritate the more meticulous of you out there in
listserv land.  I have never been much of a spelling bee champ, in fact I
was the bumble instead of the bee.

***I sincerely apologize for all the mistakes and the lack of succinct
writing that many of you may be used to.  If it gets to irritating please
refrain from reading the post.  I am not insulted, nor will I ever be.  I
know my shortcomings, and they are many.


Winslow to Vegas:

When I left Winslow I was feeling rather angry and rather sorrowful.  I had
enjoyed seeing the man that was once revered by all in my family as a man
with a calling from God the almighty.  But at the same time I was so hurt
by all the things about him that had come to my knowledge from his
daughter.  I was also bothered greatly by the treatment this elderly man,
no matter what he had done, was suffering.

As I drove I tried to concentrate on the fact that once again I was free of
the uneasy setting I had just visited.  All in all that is exactly what it
was, a visit and nothing more.  It took me a while to reconcile my mind to
be easy about walking away.  The fact is that I cannot save the world, but
I can try.  I drove along and finally became relaxed by the hum that only a
VW bus can offer.  It is sort of like turning on a fan to help one drop off
to sleep, it lulls you into a different frame of mind.  I arrived at
Redlake Trading Post and met Joe Petrillo and that in itself was a
different world all together.

Joe used to be a bodyguard for the celebrities of the world.  Stars such as
Jimmy Cagney, Katherine Hepburn, The Stones, and Van Halen.  I am also
wondering just how Kat Hepburn fit into his resume, I don't remember her
doing a knee slide across stage while wailing on a Fender strat.  But she
is one of my favorite actresses from the old school so I was as equally
impressed by the mention.

Joe is a man of about 60 years old.  he said he had bought the Trading post
in the early 80's and had used the money from his celeb career to buy it.
Essentially he had gotten a bit burned out on the sex, drugs, and rock n
roll so he came to the south rim of the canyon and had found the quiet he
wanted.

While talking and after introducing ourselves Joe mentioned two other guest
at the hostel, and that one of them was from Georgia.  It was already dark
and cold and growing much more of both so I decided I would pay the $8.00
and stay the night in the warmth of a nice room.  There was also other
comforts like a common room that had a TV complete with satellite, ashtrays
fro those smoking feens, and a microwave for those that indulged in the act
of nuking food.  It was shangra la and I had Georgia folk to talk to.  Hee
Da Hee!

I settled into my room complete with two bunk beds, sheets and blankets,
and a heater one could turn high enough to battle the raging fires of hell.
I jacked that sucker up to the sauna setting and prepared to start my tan.
I lasted about ten minutes then set it back to the Florida setting.

Getting a little bored I walked down to the common room and flipped on the
TV complete with satellite.  I sat with the remote in hand, a power I
havenšt felt since storing my set back in my mom's garage.  A remote is an
amazing thing but it certainly doesn't help one to make a solid choice and
then stay with it.  I believe it emits a certain amount of electricity and
that charge sends signals of curiosity to the brain.  These signals in turn
make a person flick that little channel button about every 15 seconds.  The
better the batteries are, the faster you flick.  I just hope they never put
110 plugs on the damn thing, the channels would just fly by like a raging
river of static.

After about 15 or 20 minutes of channel exploration the door flew open and
in stepped a 6 foot white haired man wearing sweats and boasting a voice
almost as deep as my own.  He scoped me out, stepped forward and said in
his deepest voice, not to mention southern drawl, "zat your van out
there?", I said "yeah", and stood up to meet his voice and boisterous
nature.  He announced while extending his open hand "I'm John Guyton from
Atlanta".  I introduced myself and he explained that he was tired and
needed to go to the room but he would be back in a while and we would
exchange lies.

In Georgia folks are naturally big even when their bodies are small.
Anyone who has ever known many of us from that blessed part of the country
know that our bark is usually much bigger than our bite.  We are raised to
be big and friendly, that is just the way life is.

John never made it back to the common room, I think he fell asleep.
Although his traveling buddy did.  Peter Keasley from London, England
strolled into the room and his best queens English introduced himself and
set a 3 gallon bottle of gin on the table, at least it seemed that damn
big.  He asked if I wanted a drink.  Now I am not much of a liquor drinker
but this man was from another country and I have always wanted to sit and
talk with one of the queens subjects about matters of life in England.

We sat and talked about three hours.  We spoke about US and English
politics, religion, sex, drugs, rock n roll, and good gin.  After three
hours, several gin and tonics, and a pack of cigarettes we decided to
retire to our respective rooms of abode.

The next morning I rolled out of the rack with a nice headache and a bad
need to relieve my bladder.  I slipped on my pants, recruited two elves to
help carry my brain, and headed through the cold hard air to the bathroom
which at that time felt as if it were about 5 miles away and growing
farther with each step I took.  After three hours (dog life time) I made
it.  I washed my face and looked in the mirror at my eyes that resembled
roadmaps of Arizona.  So I stood there and decided my route for the day.

I walked to the store to secure that free cup of coffee that was bought
along with the nights stay.  Ah, straight, black, caffinated coffee in a
large non recyclable styro-foam cup.  What a treat for a heady morning.
Morale of the story; quit while you can still speak without slurring.  As I
said I am not much of a drinking man.

Joe was minding the store and preparing for the day when I approached the
counter.  I sat and talked to him while I nursed the coffee with great
reverence for the soothing affect it was having.  Peter came in looking
chipper and being every bit as talkative as he was the night before.  Then
John entered and asked if I would join them for breakfast.  I said I would
and off we went to the common room.

Cornbeef hash on wheat bread with butter and cheese makes one fine start
for the day.  I sat and slowly ate;  Peter sat and slowly ate; and John sat
and made up for all the talk he had missed last night.  He talked the whole
time.  That is in between the five sandwiches and three cups of coffee he
wolfed down.  He told us of his visits to Europe in 1985 then in 1992.  He
told us of his family, his friends, his life's work, and his love for the
great "state of mind" that is Georgia.

John and Peter headed off to visit Tucson.  I finished packing and headed
north on Hwy. 64 toward the south rim of the canyon.  I drove about thirty
miles and finally reached the park.  I entered the park and drove another 5
miles or so to the first overlook.  I was awe inspired.  I stood on the rim
and looked into the biggest canyon I have ever laid my eyes on.  I have
seen pictures of this place but never have I been so overwhelmed by any one
piece of nature.  I felt like I was nothing more than a speck standing with
other specks.  The Grand Canyon is titled properly.  It is massive, it is
humongous, it is so beautiful that one not only feels small but becomes
small.

I wish I could find the words to describe this marvel.  I can only try and
describe the things I saw.  I looked down in the canyon and saw the
Colorado river threading it's way through the basin.  It looked as if it
were nothing more than a small drain ditch, which these days I guess in a
way it is if you think about it.  I saw ravens drifting on the currents
that flow up the canyon wall.  These large black/blue birds only flapped
their wings to maintain balance.  I saw level land all of a sudden drop off
into a vast expanse of sheer face cliffs.  Some dropped a couple hundred
feet before regaining any slope or incline.

While standing on the rim I heard languages from the orient, the islands,
and from Europe.  They along with all of the Americans stood and marveled
at the site before them.  They snapped Nikons, and Haslblads, and Kodaks.
They expressed their feelings with oooohs and ahhhhs just like all the
others that stood on the precipice.  All of us seeing this landmark of the
Americas.  I stood and thought just how great our country is.  All of these
people from different lands and cultures came to see this, the greatest
country on the earth.

I walked back to my bus, crawled in the back and lay down.  I read the
booklet provided by the parks service.  I saw that on further down the road
was a village.  I drove on and eventually came to the main park of the
south rim.  More people, more camera's, and more languages greeted me as I
stepped out of the Mothership.

There was a trail that led up the side of the canyon so I decided I would
take a walk.  I came to a place where a jagged rock extends out over the
abyss.  I stepped out and sat down to admire this windy place.  For some
reason it made me want to whistle or sing or something.  I whistled and
looked and enjoyed.

Finally I emerged from my new found perch and walked back to the bus.  I
got my guitar, an old Yamaha I had brought with me for relaxation.  I
walked back to the perch only to find someone else enjoying the space I had
previously inhabited.  I sat down on a park bench and commenced to pluck
the strings.  No particular song, just something slow and easy to match the
way I felt.

A lady walked up and for some strange reason complimented the way I played.
She was a senior citizen and as we talked she introduced herself as being
from Lookout Mountain, Tennessee.  I told her I was from Georgia and we
started talking about all sorts of things like the canyon and home.
Eventually her husband joined us, and then two of their friends that were
also from the same area.  The second couple were as nice as the first, and
the conversation led to occupations.  The second gentleman was a retired 3
star general.  He and his wife are now involved in the NASA space center.
They were all great to talk with and expressed their mutual feelings for
me.

I went back to the bus and headed back down the road from whence I had
entered.  it was a peaceful drive but somewhat sad.  I was leaving one of
the most beautiful places I had ever visited.  The Grand Canyon is so
stupendous and exciting.  At the same time it is relaxing and peaceful.  I
would never forget this place, the sites I had seen, or the folks I had
met.  Life was good on the 2nd to the lower floor of heaven.

Thanks for tolerating my ramblings,
Charlie Ford














"79" Transporter, dressed for the road
The Mothership

 The"Turning 40 Nostalgic VW Service Tour, and
Search for the Beginning of Wind".

www.armory.com/~y21cvb/charlie/charlie.html

"Wider still and wider.....shall thy bounds be set"