Children of the Corn

When you camp in private or public areas, you are bound to run into some "less-desirable" types every now and then. Up until now, we haven't had any complaints about any of our neighbors.  Most people are quite considerate, honest and friendly.

Three nights ago, at 9:45 pm, 2 large, older, modified-types pulled into spaces to our left. Their license plates claim they are from the great state of Arkansas, however, we think they are the Nebraskan demons that were the inspiration for Stephen King's book, "Children of the Corn." They are unfriendly, unkempt, dark and a bit scary. So far, two other RV'ers have complained to the office about their behavior and language.

Last night, when I went to dispose of our trash in the dumpster, I walked past their rigs and I waved to the group at each space. Not one, of a total of eight people, acknowledged my wave, even though they were quite obviously staring directly at me. I will take a different route back from the dump and won't be making corn on the cob anytime soon.

This turns out to be my last entry for the month of May. Thirty-one days blew by in the blink of an eye.  

Today, I needed to drive by our home, and while driving down Tate Avenue I started laughing at the condition of the road.  I've nicknamed it Varicose Vein Lane due to all the liquid tar filling the cracks. It makes me want to remain in Gracie all-the-more, despite the gravel, dirt, ants and creepy neighbors.

Deep thought for the day: Even when people do not look or act like us, it doesn't mean that you can't treat them with respect.  However, if your respect is not returned, cut your losses and move along.  Quickly.

New favorite spot