Apparently one of the more popular Jackson area gravel truck drivers died recently. There was a funeral procession this morning driving South down I-55. Each of the trucks was carrying a load of the deceased's favorite gravel, and in order to outwardly display their grief, the drivers would release a small salvo of their cargo into the interstate traffic. Each cracked windshield represented a fond memory of their fallen brother that they cherish. It was lovely.
This town is starting to wear a bit thin. For me, this may be the darkest hour of my evacuation experience. I know I am not alone in that feeling. It is easy for me to find strength in calamity for all other concerns become unimportant. It is not easy for me to be so strong when faced with comfort and routine. I have fallen upon my Isle of the Lotus Eaters.