Man In Hiding
By John R. Greenwood
I feel like I’ve been on the lam, peering out from the tallest corn, trying not to be seen, wondering what’s next, what on the horizon. In all honesty I think I just need a day off, a day with no problems to fix, nobody to worry about. Stress and worry can sneak up and kick the legs out from under you. I don’t think it’s anything serious but it always shows up when I am least prepared. I’d been writing about watercolor artist Jack Lewis and his book The Hudson River. I was on a roll and on the trail of a documentary about the man I have become somewhat obsessed with learning more about. I was excited about the people I’d found and the possibilities their stories might provide. Then, like life often does, I got mired down in work and some health concerns. No matter how hard I try not to let age touch me it won’t leave me alone. Just when I feel safe from it’s grasp, it shows up on the porch and tries to sell me a bill of goods. I tell it to go away and to leave me alone but It seems to find some joy in antagonizing me with unexplained aches and mysterious pains. I’m not complaining--just observing.
So while riding the backroads of Washington County I caught sight of this old building hiding from the world.
It spoke to me.
It said, “Hey, I know what you’re going through. Don’t let it get to you. The world is a beautiful place. Some days it just looks different. That’s when you have to stand on your head and see what it looks like with your feet in the wind and your ear to the ground.”
So that’s where I am today. I’m refueling, refreshing and rethinking. It’s a necessary process that never stops. You can’t see what you want if you can’t see what you have.
You can’t see anything if you’re hiding in the tall corn.