Decry Of Autonomy……………..#101 (the 60’s)

The decision to return to California having been made.  Prior to his departure, Gary arrested his Wurlitzer electric piano to serve a sentence within the confines of a pawn brokerage establishment,  finding it necessary to capitalize on a  financial disbursement for its confinement.   Acquainting Glenn that he would forward the piano’s bail after accessing his destination, a decision as to its disposition to be made at that time.   The sudden advent of departure was of no consternation, the concerns addressing the band finding an impetuous attitude and a loss of focus was evident, Gary reasoned,  disappointment was inherit.

The Greyhound Scenicruiser adhering to its post at the Bus Station at 2nd and C  in Lawton,  waiting for the traveling cortege to board, its ambition Oakland California.   Gary seated in the confines of the darken bus as it accepted the highway, not the conveyance of choice or expediency,  but opportunity,  the passenger indecisive in thought, endeavoring for perspective,  but objectivity still at a lost.   Awakening from his slumber as the Greyhound entered the small town of Pecos Texas,   halting its progression giving pause for the passengers to stretch their legs.

The traveler disembarking,  the name Pecos ringing a bell, then remembering as a 7 or 8 year old,  the stories of Pecos Bill.  According to legend, a toddler named Bill fell off a wagon heading west and was raised by coyotes on the Pecos river and is responsible for creating many landmarks, including the Rio Grande River and Painted desert.  It was told he and his horse got stranded in the desert and needed water.  Pecos grabbed a stick and dug the Rio Grande,  and  on one occasion,  coming  upon a tribe of hostile Indians, deciding to shoot his gun,  and as they ran away,  the paint they had on,  came off and painted the desert.  He also was known to lasso clouds and cyclones, and dynamite was his favor food.  Welcome to Pecos Bill country.

Gary deciding to journey towards the downtown section of this once preeminent railroad town, a mainstay stop between Fort Worth and El Paso,  Gary imbuing the predawn cleansing air,  clearing the blemished atmosphere of the coach from his lungs.   Once again addressing the diminutive  station, discovering he had  subsequently let too much time wander,  his scheduled scenicruiser having departed.   The stationmaster was quick to satisfy the situation, unbelievably  relating, another bus to Oakland would  arrive within the hour.

Regrouping from the perplexity of his miscalculation the abject musician boarded his supplemental transport continuing the venture to Oakland.   Seated at the rear of the conveyance dozing thru the predawn hours  waking to view the mesquite and sage brush span of southwest Texas.  Striking up a conversation with a fellow traveler, the new acquaintance mentioning it would be a time consuming journey to Oakland,  this Greyhound wasn’t an Express,  it’s was traveling to Oakland via,  El Paso, Phoenix, San Diego, Los Angles, then  north to the Bay-area.  Gary doing a quick calculation, with stops included,  in all probability it would be another 24 hours before reaching Oakland.

It was during the morning stop in El Paso, the fellow traveler, an elderly merchant mariner traveling to board ship in Oakland, made a hoisting suggestion that Gary concurred with, briefly exiting the bus.   Resuming their travel, listening to the mariner discoursed his occupational adventures of the high-seas, the musician exchanging anecdotes of his experiences,  the two entertaining a bottle of orange flavored Russian fortitude, better known as vodka, to lessen the affliction of their travel.

It was early evening when the Greyhound coach dropped anchor in Oakland,  depositing the  weary recent advents.  Gary placing a phone call and with arrival of the 56 Plymouth,  Father and son relinquished the downtown bus terminal, the two stopping  before accessing the Greenly Drive residence,  Gary and his dad according a cocktail lounge not as father and son but commencing a conversation with glass in hand as two friends united, an acknowledgement never before experienced.

Gary was home less than a week when a phone call painted a new picture.  The call was from Troy Elledge,  presenting the argument that he was needed and should  return to Oklahoma.   Don “Red Eye” Kinder,  farmer,  benefactor, promoter of Troy and his old band the Rythm Tamers,  offering to finance his return, wiring him the money and also would obtain the pawn ticket from Glenn to retrieve  the Wurlitzer Electric from its captivity.   Gary curious to the reason for this sudden interest, Troy disclosing that Kinder was going to finance a recording session with him on the west coast, and was going to include the band.

The musician questioning the vicariousness of the conversation,   once again a paradox riveting his essence of resolve having just returned home.  His past departures from the family having embolden a sense of solitaire,  feeling somewhat estrange from his kindred contingency, and this trying dilemma conveying his decry of autonomy.  Gary searching for a logical reason to reject the Oklahoma offer, aware that there was but one identity capable of issuing a discordant to his returning to Oklahoma,  he waited for it to surface, but to his wonder his parents remained silent.


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