The Wrong Eyed Rooster

I am sitting by the bed writing this blog, as I often do. I’m heading back to Florida. I’m sure it’s for the best. I say that because things usually are. I can resist; but what good would it do me.

Life is what it is~Rooster and I are headed back to the South. The South, which is north of here.

Circumstances once again necessitate a geographical change.

I once saw a documentary Searching for the Wrong Eyed Jesus. I use to be a fan of unusual films, found on the shelves of Blockbusters Video Stores. Taking in Jim White – The Music Missionary‘s narration of the south, I was mesmerized. It’s the south that I know. From the junk yards, to the bars, the churches, the music, and the swamps; his words and images resonate southern DNA. The south can be a very strange place, thick with an eerie tone. David Bryne calls it, “beautiful, dark and weird stuff”.

I have a friend that always says, Cheri, you can be whoever you want to be ~ don’t identify with that. That’s easier said than done. And I’m not sure I would want to sever that part of me. It’s my heritage. I love the South.

I know it up close and personal.

Rooster is my husband, and also a native Floridian. This morning, as I reflect on our years together, country music starts playing in my head, accompanied by clips of Cheech and Chong movies. It’s been a real, Ring of Fire; which coincidentally is an area of volcanic activity, including Central America, and the title of a Johnny Cash and June Carter song. (one of the loudest and recurring in my head this morning)

Entonces/So, today will be spent preparing to leave. Coming and going I never know what to expect.

Hasta luego, La Huerta~ Camp Tobacco, here we come!

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