Mood:
lyricalTopic: "Virginia Lovers" (4)
Despite the narrow lanes on the Interstate, it is pleasant to run the ridges of green land Tennessee, and to pass into the rolling hills of Virginia. Frodo's forebears passed this way generations ago, heading for new lands, and Frodo occasionally waves at pedestrians who could be distant relatives, long ago having decided that they had travelled far enough. Fortunately none so far have appeared with a banjo.
Sam is wistful, the gallant Howard was borne near here, and that brings his gentle spirit into the motorcar. The small towns that pass outside bear names familiar to Frodo only through the discourse they held in years past. Frodo always wondered how "Bean Station" got its' name, or if "French Lick" signaled something earthy, if not foreign? How sad that the source of information is now something one "googles," rather than listening to tales told from a porch-swing. Perhaps that is the reason that Frodo and Sam sit closer together than at other times.
Soon they will join the merry raconteurs of tall tales and hapless adventures. Pictures of children will have turned to those of grandchildren, with expectations of recognition and admiration. Gladly, they are to be given, and gratefully they will be received. Beverages will be refreshed beyond the pale, and Frodo will be most concerned about the proximity of appropriate facilities. His bladder, it seems, has aged beyond his spirit.
What worries Frodo is how to encapsule two score of years, and to somehow remain relevant. Perhaps a handout, something like a dullard letter in a Christmas Card, is the answer, but even Frodo's brevity would be taxed by wanting to say something different to everyone he greets. These people helped to make Frodo, and their gifts to him are both distinct and precious. His thought is to introduce them to these pages, in hopes that one day he may write something worth remembering.
That, Frodo decides, is what he will offer to those who still enjoy swinging on the front porch, and listening to the wind. There are too few of us.
