Mount Shasta, seen from the city of Mount ShastaCopyright 2007 Lydia Hinshaw
BURNEY, CA -- We hadn't been in town 10 minutes before we were offered the opportunity to register to vote in Shasta County.
A gentleman sitting outside the local chain drugstore in this small mountain town was trying to lure passers-by onto the voter rolls. I explained that we don't live here, and we kept walking.
After we checked into the best-looking of several motels, Prince Charming felt like a nap, so I went for a walk on my own. It proved both informative and fruitful. In the local general store I found some ball-point pens of a model I've been using for about seven years. Trouble is, I haven't been able to find this particular model since I bought out the supply in an Ormond Beach emporium at least five years ago. I'm down to my last one, and had been watching with some sadness as its ink level declined.
In Burney, I found six somewhat dusty pens and bought them all. At my age, that could be a lifetime supply.
I continued walking, following signs to the local swimming pool, hoping against hope that it would be indoors and open. No luck there. It's outdoors, locked-up and half drained.
On the way back I found the local cemetery and the grave of the town's namesake, Samuel Burney. His tombstone notes he was a local pioneer who was killed by Indians in 1857, although the town's website says it was actually 1859.
Back on Main Street, I decided to revisit the drugstore. Since I'd gotten lucky with the pens, I figured I might add to my stash. Who knows, I could live long enough, and write enough letters, to use up the six new ones.
I was greeted at the door, again, by the nice man who was delighted to see another potential voter, and had completely forgotten me. I explained, again, that I can't register to vote in a county where I'm not a resident.
He waved me on, with a smiling admonition that Jesus is coming soon.
Ah, California, how I've missed you!
A gentleman sitting outside the local chain drugstore in this small mountain town was trying to lure passers-by onto the voter rolls. I explained that we don't live here, and we kept walking.
After we checked into the best-looking of several motels, Prince Charming felt like a nap, so I went for a walk on my own. It proved both informative and fruitful. In the local general store I found some ball-point pens of a model I've been using for about seven years. Trouble is, I haven't been able to find this particular model since I bought out the supply in an Ormond Beach emporium at least five years ago. I'm down to my last one, and had been watching with some sadness as its ink level declined.
In Burney, I found six somewhat dusty pens and bought them all. At my age, that could be a lifetime supply.
I continued walking, following signs to the local swimming pool, hoping against hope that it would be indoors and open. No luck there. It's outdoors, locked-up and half drained.
On the way back I found the local cemetery and the grave of the town's namesake, Samuel Burney. His tombstone notes he was a local pioneer who was killed by Indians in 1857, although the town's website says it was actually 1859.
Back on Main Street, I decided to revisit the drugstore. Since I'd gotten lucky with the pens, I figured I might add to my stash. Who knows, I could live long enough, and write enough letters, to use up the six new ones.
I was greeted at the door, again, by the nice man who was delighted to see another potential voter, and had completely forgotten me. I explained, again, that I can't register to vote in a county where I'm not a resident.
He waved me on, with a smiling admonition that Jesus is coming soon.
Ah, California, how I've missed you!
No comments:
Post a Comment