Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Sooorry, no time to write today. You're getting another journal entry.



It seems like so much has transpired since we left. The week has sped by, but it seems like a long time. I don't know how it can seem like that.

We stopped at a park that we found using Microsoft's map software. It was a nice little park, minus all of the broken glass. We met a couple and their children who had been stuck on their roof in New Orleans for three days. I took a notebook and a video camera out and asked questions; the video camera's batteries were completely drained. I used the notebook. I'm going to try to write something for my blog. I just realized Mom had said it's only been three weeks since the hurricane. It seems like a lot longer.

While we were driving back to the flying J, Daniel took a shower. Dad stopped the bus real quick and Daniel almost fell out of the shower. Then, to make matters worse, the water stopped running because of a bad connection to the pump! He was so funny as he described it, wide-eyed, as his "worst shower ever." He said the soap was drying on him. When we got to the flying J, he yelled out, "It's been 61 seconds," because Dad has said it would be just a minute before we stopped.

I keep thinking I have all of this time on my hands, I ought to really write something. I was thinking about how well I've been able to get along without inet or IM; then I realized I just connected on Wednesday and I talked online for 20 minutes or so. Heh. I guess I have a short memory. It feels like a long time going without, but in reality, it isn't really.

We stopped at a grocery store in Gary and bought some food and passed out tracts. Amongst other things, they sell pigs' feet and what appeared to be (and what my mom identified as) pigs' tails. Very weird. I have never closely examined a pigs rear quarters, so I wouldn't know if we were correct in the indentification we made. While parked alongside the grocery store, I sat against the bus and practiced trumpet with my mute. A guy came by and said "hey, play me something," but kept walking. When he got right to the edge of the building, he motioned with his hand and yelled "commere", which by I assumed he meant, 'move your body to the vicinity of where I'm pointing, please." I wasn't too hot on this idea of playing for people, especially since he had mumbled something about playing some Gilespie. I barely know who the guy is, let alone being able to play something that would be recognizable as something once included in his repertoire. But anyway, I don't know if the guy had much knowledge of Gilespie's music either. He returned from the corner of the building alone - much to my relief - and asked again for some Gilespie. I told him I didn't know any, but if he'd like to listen I'd play Amazing Grace. So I did, and when I was done I handed him some tracts and asked him to please read them sometime. So he took them, looked them over, asked a few questions about what church we were a part of (to which I responded that I was a Born Again Believer, not associated with any denomination), and then he said "You know, that's great. You know why? [I shook my head] You know why? [Shook my head again]. 'Cause God is awesome." And as he walked away he said God Bless, and started humming Amazing Grace.

I'd write more, but I'm so tired (partly because of the time change) and my neck is starting to feel creaky.

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