The temperature was already 85 when we started work at 7 a.m. on the I-49 bridge over Missouri Highway 150 in Belton. Even before they took their positions among the piles of rebar, the men were sweating. Jungle-like humidity lay on us like warm, wet blankets.
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I was living my halcyon days when I was teaching. It would end. Storms would come.
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Skyhorse released my new book, Ferment: A Memoir of Mental Illness, Redemption, and Winemaking in the Mosel, on Monday, July 27. Those of you who have ordered the book should receive it within the next few days, if you haven’t already. I appreciate your support. Every book you order for yourself or others really helps.
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I cut like a ship through oceans of spider webs. Taking up the lead on the trail, I set the pace on the rough trails littered with chert, sandstone, and flint. We hiked through sere creek beds, empty of streams at this time of year, and up through bottomlands lush with tall grasses. Mounting rocky hillsides, the trail ascended to long ridges where mature forest opened only occasionally to sky.
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You work the mail, they say, don’t let the mail work you. But that’s hard. As I walk along, day after day, 12-18 miles, depending on the mail, my mind drifts. That’s not good for a letter carrier. The job demands constant presence. When I begin to wander, I make mistakes, have to backtrack, and lose time.
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