August 24, 2005
Ted and Jere's Excellent Adventure at Camp Casey
Jere is a play-write, so her report is bound to be a bit dramatic.
Brother, it was an experience. I don't know if I can write about it yet.
I am very tired, sunburned even though I wore a lot of sun screen, and
other protection and was under the big tent part of the time, it was
such a humidly change, like from 90% to 0%. One thing I will say, none
of the press talk about the beauty of the land. It is awesome. Such
wide horizon and the crown of the hill country. I met a naturalist who
said it was overworked prairie, but he still found wild flowers that
were over 150 years old.
I packed the brownies in a green basket that flowers must have been in
sometime over the last three years since we moved into this house. I
hosed out the cobwebs and the roach droppings and lined it with foil and
old cotton napkins. I brought it to the kitchen area at Camp Casey.
Later the cook caught up with me to say thanks and talk for a bit. She
is a chef from Western Mass who cooks for three vegan conference centers
in Mass. She laughed because she said people were trying to cook for
vegans and said look around. Most of the volunteers were obviously
coniferous with fat around our middles. And most of the volunteers are
Texans. While Texas has its share of vegans, the ground we were
standing on and the land around it is cattle country. The crops are
corn, maize, hay, and soy beans. These are not crops that are consumed
in first person by humans. People plant food for the cows partner.
Our host had suggested that we eat breakfast at the Coffee Stop, the
local restaurant. I might have the name slightly wrong, but Coffee is
the first word. It is a combination, gas, convenience, and restaurant.
The owner is one of those salt of the earth Texas women, not to be
scoffed at or made fun of because of her sentimental attachment to the
cattle she has raised and loved and cursed. She and her husband had a
small ranch, 300 head near Crawford. They still own the land and lease
it out and sold the cattle or most of them. She serves coffee with
stories and gossip about the doings around town, but I want to know
about her life, the life of this woman in this small town in Texas made
infamous because a rich boy from the East Coast decided that this was
land that would make him the man he wanted to be or appear to be. She's
telling me about buying this business after she and her husband retired
from ranching.
We had such trouble letting them go. Even when it was our business.
I had an uncle, by marriage, who had a small ranch in Mississippi, they
still call it a farm down there. He used to name his cattle.
It's the naming that gets you in trouble. We named all of ours. We had a
big black longhorn. Huge animal. Couldn't let that animal go. Finally
he died. I wanted him buried, didn't want to let him go, sell his body.
But the ground here is rocky - rock is close to the surface. And he was
so large it would have taken a big hole - bigger than we could manage.
So I took him to the taxidermist. Had his head mounted from the
shoulders. I have one of those two story entranceways. His head fills
one whole wall. I'll have him with me till I die. I had his hide tanned
and made into a rug. But my grandson loved that beast. So I gave it to
him and he keeps it hanging over his bed. You all here to attend one of
the rallies?
Yes. We want to visit with the women and men supporting Cindy Sheehan
and the other mothers who have come to protest the war.
Now you know you all need to go to Peace House. That man I was just
talking to that was sitting over there, he's been here a long time. He
is one of them Veterans for Peace. Jim. A nice man. People come in here
from all sides.
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Right now Ted and I are the only people in the restaurant. Its about 8
am. I want to go out to Camp Casey before it gets to hot. We forgot
our sun screen and buy the last bottle in the store part. Have to pay
two bills to keep it all straight. Peace house is on the other side of
the silos and the rail road crossing. A small while wood frame house,
it was bought by a group shortly after George Bush is declared the
winner of the 2000 election. I can't even go there emotionally. But
it is comforting to know that people man the peace station year round.
These are the coordinators of the visitors to Camp Casey and the first
camp. There are two or three parking lots and a tent and bathing area
around Peace House. People live in tents for weeks and days at a time.
I talked with Jim the Vet for Peace and he said it wasn't so bad except
for the fire ants. Fire ants have a history in the southern and western
states. They can kill animals and humans alike. But mainly they just
bring misery with their bites. They have some kind of wicked
communication system and that allows them to gather on the victim and
bite in unison. The sensation of even one bite is like sticking a lit
cigarette on your skin and holding it down. Something akin to turning
on the news and finding the President talking. It smarts long after you
have changed stations. Jim is in his late fifties with white hair that
is tied back into a long pig tail, his scalp is protected by his
identifying hat. He and his group march with the School of the Americas
Watch in Fort Benning every November. Later he and his fellow veterans
will have a meeting under the big tent at Camp Casey near the entrance
to the Bush Ranch. Maybe 15 men sitting open stanched on folding chairs
set in a circle, heads bowed in toward the center.
I'm nervous about giving peoples real names because I didn't ask for
permission though everyone wears name tags. But I met a women at the
Peace House tent area who was wearing a picture of a young man.
Your son, I ask.
Yes. He is shipping out to Iran in September.
What will he be doing?
He's a communications specialist. He served his hitch and was in the
reserves. They called his unit up, and told him all they had for him to
do was drive a truck. He was a trained specialist. So he reenlisted.
He figured it would be better for his family. More money, more benefits
and soldiers were stuck over there and ....
How old is he?
Twenty eight. Will you talk to people on the other side?
If I meet any, sure.
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I didn't. One of the shuttle drivers took Ted and I out to the bit camp
but since we were his only customers we drove by the first camp site
along the road side. It was filled with tents and umbrellas and cases
of water and people getting ready for another hot day. The Veterans
supporting the war had umbrellas and chairs set up but no tents. And no
supporters of the war. Perhaps because the President wasn't in residence
or because Tuesday morning was obviously a slow day after a busy
weekend. The two sides face each other across a broad stretch or road
that forms a Y. two small farm road meet and form a single road that
leads to the new camp site.
I talk to the driver about the beauty of the open land. He agrees that
it is awesome, but says that some of his riders that are from the urban
areas of the south find it intimidating. It is now after nine in the
morning and we can see the moon in the sky before us. Too much sky for
the initiated. I am from the tall pine areas of East Louisiana, but I
have learned to love this abundance of land and sky. Then the large
white tent appears on the horizon. I know we are near. I see the first
state trooper car of the day. It is the drive way to the Bush Ranch and
we have to cross it to get on the property. A volunteer directs the
van, "get both wheels off the road, we have to keep the driveway clear."
Later I will talk with the traffic director; he is a reporter from West
Virginia. He is on a leave of absence from his paper. It is a bus man's
holiday. He writes about the homeless by living with them for a month,
or sleeps in a homeless shelter for two months.
Joan Bias (sic) is there but I do not meet her. She cancelled her trip
home after her Sunday night performance and will be living at Camp Casey
all week. Cindy Sheehan will arrive on Wednesday and Thursday they will
come to Houston, for a big church gathering with our Congresswoman,
Sheila Jackson Leigh.
I do meet a naturalist, a Phd, retired school teacher who is dedicated
to preserving and studying prairies. He lives in Kansas and since
retirement does things like this. He drove down with a friend and they
are sleeping in a tent and volunteering for a week or two. It is cool
under the tent. There is a soft breeze. It will not remain so. The sun
which already burns your skin will grow much hotter and the breeze with
disappear as the sun heats the land. There are maybe fifty, sixty
people gathered all working and visiting under the tent or smaller ones
that cover registration table. The traffic director endures the sun.
He made his job. On arrival he saw the need and took the job on. Under
the tent jobs are spelled out. Emptying the trash cans, sorting
recyclables into bags on one side of the cook tent and regular trash on
the other side.
Some women are making signs. Three porta-cans stand in the hot sun. It
is not pleasant. These people have been there a day, two weeks, some
will leave today, tomorrow but others will fill their spaces. Tents are
left behind for the new comers. It is a well run camp. Not fancy, but
orderly.
Oh, our accommodations were luxurious. It was a three bedroom house set
in a grove of trees and rocky cliffs. Just knock down beautiful. More
stories about the town later. Do know that the local police and some of
the county sheriffs pass the peace sign to the folks. But I have to
tell you that people know it could turn dangerous very easily. There is
a sense of it particularly for the people on the road, but for all.
There is hard core anger directed at the women. Not the men, the women.
