CONTEMPORARY EXPLORER

The bare lot stood silent, not saying anything. As if waiting to be called into the wealth on the right side of the tracks. The train though seemed to block its way, lingering on the tracks, seemingly never moving. The traffic rerouted over bridges far from the lot. I wondered would anyone ever want the lot, would people come there. I walked across the street to a small place, The Common Market, ate a sandwich, mingled with people and had a cup of their coffee chip ice cream. All the time looking at the lot across the way, but not worrying anymore…

  Simple things sometimes reveal special beauty in their detail. Beauty often overlooked.

 The parking lot half empty, just like the strip mall still painted in dark red. The owner having done everything they could to attract new tenets. But as you turned and looked, a large freeway sign dominated the horizon, pulling your attention away. As if to speed the dying...

  Sometimes the crush of the traffic and city challenge finding the peace you need to take a photo, make a drawing or even think. Still you continue to search for the hidden corners of the city, where things left behind inspire in small ways…

  Box trucks are as much a part of the city as any mode of transport. Ideally designed for congestion and narrow alley loading docks. Some of the most iconic are yellow colored trucks, often without a name or logo on the side. They conjure a certain mystery as to origin, intent and what they carry. There found parked most anywhere, adding to that mystique. Some of these trucks are 20 years old, usually linked by GMC or Ford chassis. They often play parts in movies such as The Pocket or crime sagas. The moving industry was the first to invent and use the box truck. It sprang from the habit of apartment dwellers stacking their belongings on top of each other before a move. The box truck configuration a perfect fit for such moves.  The yellow trucks you find about are often linked to the history of Yellow Trucking. Originally formed in 1929, by the owner of Yellow Cabs. It grew from one truck to become the largest trucking firm in the US with 22,000 trucks, 600 loading docks and ...

  You want to write more about this place. Hard scrabble, sitting along route 521. Write more than there is, mystery lingers here. So much of Kershaw’s fate linked to the soil, How it seems the whole town is headed that way. Fading away except for the distant gold glitter that remains. They say 2,000 live here, but there is no bustle on the streets. Just worn out sides of buildings once used, The place made by the railroad, rail lines that don’t stop here now. Just a few grain cars straddle its tracks. The gold mine a few miles away, digging away at the earth. But crops of soybeans the real gold now. They turn the fields purple and red in the fall,  Unlike gold, they come back time and again. Harvested and hauled by bin trucks that line up. They take little of the earth, need no chemicals to grow. Replenish the soil with nutrients for other crops. The market always waiting for them. The processing plant at the end of town, turning them to oil. You neve...

  I could write a lot about the South. How it's more rural and forested than you think, how two lane roads travel to small towns, some forgotten or forgetting. The warmth of the people you meet, the quiet distance they will keep. The splendor of a Southern Spring, the sultry summers that make you pause, deep colors of fall fields, the cold winds of Winters with barren trees. New industry with promise and jobs. Old industry in vacant places with people left behind. Sometimes though, you find a simple shop or store and look in the corners, the story of the South is all there. I could write a lot about the South, but not tell what you will find…