Saturday, April 13, 2013


I have no idea why. So don’t ask me.

I love country roads; especially if there is no one else on them. Maybe it is the solitude.

Solitude may have been my downfall. I was supposed to be in charge of a bunch of people. It was like the complaint department in a dry-goods store - - - but one hundred times that. It was a new enterprise in the Industrial Revolution.

So every time I had a chance at solitude - - - I took it. And they caught me. So through MUTUAL AGREEMENT, I departed.

They sent me to one of those head-measurers before I left the organization; “Phrenologyist” I think they called him.


He told me I should be farming in dirt instead of working in industry; "Dichotomies of the Mind" was what he called my condition.

But still - - - I loved solitude and country roads.

Such as this one that lead to nowhere.


Or the following one which mimed my turbulent thoughts - - - without resolution.


Or sometimes a decision was necessary; in which case I would sit by the side of the road until an answer came to me.


And then every once in a while an entrance to a farmstead would yield someone to talk to - - - even if it was a horse or a cow.

Anyhow - - - they seemed to understand me better.


So there - - - I have confessed. But still there remains  - - - the Stillwater road.

©W. Tomosky


  1. Oh, lovely post, Wally! Thank you.

    1. Thank you Virginia. I have spent a lot of time on an old abandoned farm off Stillwater Road. Many times I have just sat on an old log and wondered what type of life the first settler in that newly opened "Indian Territory" must have had. Not an easy one I am sure. Especially during his second year there, when he may have been low on seed for next spring's planting. That was the year (1815) without a summer. It snowed or frosted every month that year. I wonder how many new settlers were close to starving in 1816?