I'm sure in countries where they never heard of God, God has a nice way of dealing with those people. My experiences, however, are not uniformly saccharine. In March I cycled south to South Padre Island, where for the first time in a decade I participated in the bacchanal that is Spring Break. In the end, my one enduring image of Spring Break is that of my friend Reed, a young scholar who, inspired by the joy of the evening, sauntered about wearing nil but a foam frog on his head. The trip is not without its misery.
Many nights are a lonesome hollow.
Days are hot and miles are long and Ramen Soup comes in a variety of delicious flavors. I am broke most of the time, living place to place on minimum-wage jobs. I worked construction in Falfurrias, shucked oysters on South Padre, picked peaches in Stonewall, hauled hay in Comfort. But misery's redemption is an education like existential encyclopedias. While driving cattle near Mason, for example, I learned unequivocally that a horse does have a mind of its own.