The image suggested by the following words from a novel I'm reading underscores a theory that a good writer is similar to a painter. The author wrote in part,
"He searches for indiscretions like a miner panning for gold."
I haven't heard from Rollo in years. The last I'd talked to him is on the front lawn at my Amish friends farm. He's picking up chicken's he ordered from the Amish. The conversation is polite. It goes nowhere. I'm appalled when he previously mentioned flirting with one of the Patriarch's daughters as he sat in their kitchen enjoying conversation and coffee. I apologize to the Patriarch for introducing Rollo to the Amish. Ever one to be networking, I introduce him to the Patriarch. Rollo is looking for a source for organic meat. He considers himself to be a gourmet chef.
Actually, Rollo is a musician. He plays gigs with his wife in small town bars and local dives. He drinks too much, has an inflated view of himself and is often lonely and depressed. When you talk to him , you notice his head visibly trembles either from excessive drinking or an early onset of Parkinson's disease. He's not that old.
Always one to latch on to oddball people, I accompany him on a journey to a forgotten destination. As we pass by a farm on County Highway P, he points out a sign in the front yard. The owner of the farm has copied the ten commandments on a signboard, hoping to impress passers-by with her piety. Rollo recounts stopping at the farm. He walks up to the woman who owns the place. She's raking leaves. He goes on a diatribe hollering at her,
"If you really believed in the ten commandments you'd be better off putting up a sign to end the war in Iraq."
The sign remains. No sign to end the war in Iraq or Afghanistan follows. Rollo succeeded in impressing someone, like myself, of his terminal craziness.
Mountain Man Johann used to live in a cabin on the property adjacent to Rollo. MMJ tells me Rollo came over on the weekend instructing him,
"It is Sunday. I want it quiet. Do not play loud music, entertain noisy friends or disturb my peace."
Rollo told me that when he saw a carload of Jehovah's Witnesses drive down his road, he forced them to turn around and hurriedly exit when he ran toward them cursing and shouting in a loud voice. Opinionated, loud, brash and egotistical are his better qualities.
As I write this I wonder who's the miner, myself or Rollo?
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