Travels with AI

Missive 11, Sunday, March 22: I went into this odyssey with hope and expectation to uncover some basic truths about myself and human nature, and I think I can say that the journey, so far, has been rewarding for both of those objectives. As to myself, I have learned the need to develop a more patient and receptive attitude and to practice the kind of awareness sometimes known as every-minute Zen. As for everyone else in the Universe, I am finding you, in general, welcoming, helpful, and accommodating to a fault, but are we really “open-minded”? Most of us politely listen to opposing perspectives, smile, and give a sideways nod, but there are no adaptations of opinions taking place. We walk around inside an impenetrable opinion bubble. We’ve constructed these bubbles slowly over a long period of time, grown them really, like our potted plants, we do not like to see any part challenged or “mis-treated”.
I gave my old car away in Maine and hitched a ride with the Lead-dog, Ryan. We left Maine on Monday, the 16th, took the western routes through and along the Appalachians. Boo, I-95! I-95 has billboards, knucklehead drivers, and traffic. The inland route is much more scenic, with very accommodating drivers, and less traffic.
I have not yet fulfilled one of the core missions of my journey. I have a new pair of hiking boots that are being underutilized. AI tells me the nearest walking access to the ridge top is in Alabama, south of Flagg Mountain and Cheaha the land levels out into this tidal plain I live on. Stay tuned! The next leg of the journey is in the planning stages.
Missive 10, Sunday, March 15th: I will be turning southward tomorrow, which means I will not be continuing north from Kennebunk to Woodland, Maine, one of the mill towns where my family lived when I was a boy. Woodland was renamed Baileyville by official decree. Two Woodland’s in the state are not allowed, and the other Woodland had an older claim to the name. I recall the old town through the memories of my much younger eyes. The school was a junior/senior high. It was a small school. T Total school population? For some reason the number 89 comes to mind. We could always get the key to the gym for basketball without supervision. An older boy whose last name was Irvin was the best player I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing, and I remember being on his side in a pick-up game. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, I found myself holding the ball right under the basket. Irvin was like Magic. Unemployment, outside the mill, has always been high in Woodland. Since it is not on my agenda this time, I asked my friend, AI, for an update. The county has frequently been declared eligible for federal disaster relief, but not because of the unemployment, because of frequent weather-related disasters. Good news, though. The mill is still doing well due to massive Chinese investment. It specializes in bleached pulp specialty papers: tissues, medical products, food packaging, and high-strength paper.
Missive 9, Saturday, March 14th, noon: I am exploring a famous Maine pastime, stretching out to watch the snow melt. It is, I think, revealing that content providers for the local fish wrappers refer to snow euphemistically as “the white stuff” and go to the trouble of stating the obvious, that Spring is “on its way”. Another prominent feature of the landscape are the stone walls. The retreating ice of long ago left behind glacial till, rocks and boulders of all sizes. Every Spring the frost heave pushes more rocks to the surface. Consequently, stone walls line driveways and meander randomly along the roads and through the woods.
Missive 8, Saturday, March 14th, 7 am: Surprise and glorious, good news! It snowed all night, and it is still coming down! The residents do not seem as pleased as I am.
Missive 7, Thursday, March 12th: This is the beach, but it is not the beaches in Florida. These are rockier and swept by a sharper breeze. I did some research today and learned a new word (for me), benthic, the lobster and clams are benthic. They live on the rocky ocean floor. Lobster is still the most valuable to the fishery concerns. The lobster men get up at one or two in the morning to get ready to go out. Petrol and docking for supplies is first-come or wait in line. They haul the traps with a capstan rig. Then sort, band, and return the egg-bearing females and those too small or too large to the sea. The current reward is $5.85 per pound. Harvesting is potentially year-round but only practical starting in late Spring, when the weather is good and the lobster come into shore to molt and mate. Maine is known for its trees Eastern White Pine, Spruce, Cedar, and Birch) and for an abundance of deadfall lying in the numerous pits and swales in the rocky and hilly terrain. The deadfall supports wildlife and builds fertile soil. It’s a quiet environment with light car traffic. They are probably Boston Red Sox or Celtics fans, but you don’t see team logos on display.
Missive 6, Tuesday, March 10th: Maine got a blanket of snow this year, and the warming weather is steadily melting it. Want more irony?!?! The temp today was around 70, and the Mainers were complaining about the heat. Here in Kennebunk and Kennebunkport, the most famous writers to date were Kenneth Roberts, who wrote Northwest Passage and Arundel (pronounced A Run Del, I’m told), and his friend and collaborator, Booth Tarkington. The area is loaded with rock-solid New Englanders, like the Bush clan, who made their fortunes with shipbuilding, lobsters, and fishing. When shipbuilding moved to other harbors, these people turned to milling. The houses are solid, but they require constant upkeep to avoid weathering. It’s not an easy life, which is why there are so few derelicts and knuckleheads to be seen.
Missive 5, Saturday, March 7th: I travelled through New York, which is old ground for me. The odyssey also took me near Boston and through Worcester today. Now I am back in Maine.
Missive 4, Friday, March 6th: Here’s a Fun fact that I failed to learn in American History class: The capital of the Confederacy during the Civil War was moved from Alabama to Richmond, Virginia, which put it only 100 miles from Washington, DC. Why didn’t the two sides march 50 miles and meet in the middle? One decisive battle could have settled the matter, or Lee and Grant could have ridden out to do single combat. Both were excellent horsemen and well-trained in combat. Today took me through New York City, which was familiar ground for me, as I used to live in Hackensack, New Jersey. We used to wait at the bus stop and when the driver opened the doors, we’d sing, “Give my regards to Broadway.” and walk away. Then we’d go to Anderson’s pizzeria for a slice.
Missive 3, Thursday March 5th : I-95 is closed, Man. I am stuck in a world class traffic jam in our Nation’s Capital.
Missive 2, Wednesday March 4th: Aside from rearranging my core mental framework, my journey with AI is also planned as an opportunity for me to take the pulse of my fellow Americans as I encounter them on the road. Yesterday, before leaving Georgia, I spoke to an American of predominantly African descent living there and asked him how he felt about living there. He smiled, sincerely, I thought, and said, “It’s nice!” I have no reason to doubt or second-guess the man. Later that day, I spoke to a man named Jay. He liked to sit outside smoking cigarettes and keeping an eye on the Saltmarsh. He described himself as a Snowbirder escaping the snows farther north and looking to pick up some golf matches (this was in South Carolina). He was fleeing the snow, and I, having not seen snow in many years, was anxious to get into it. Life is nothing if not ironic. Vanessa, another new acquaintance, seemed happy and quick to find the humor in just about everything. When I complimented her on her personality, she said, “It’s because of Jesus!” I was happy for Vanessa. I did not contradict her, but, in my experience, Jesus doesn’t always seem to have that effect on everyone.
Missive 1, Tuesday March, 3rd: Hello From Charles’ Town! Day 1 of my Travels with AI! Day 1 started with a delay. My car self-locked with all the keys inside. But we got on the road at 10:30, and took the old roads. Pine Barrens and Salt Marshes are a lot more entertaining than freeway traffic and billboards. I recommend 17 North over I-95. Traffic is much lighter leaving more time to contemplate my place in existence.