My Redacted Life: Chapter Two (Cont._11)

Ready to start a new job in Little Rock, Arkansas on January 4, 1961, I took inventory. I owned a Gibson “sunburst” acoustic guitar, my proudest possession. I also owned a large grocery sack full of books. I had managed, with my unused travel money, to purchase four changes of clothes, which, coupled with the one I had, made for a week’s worth. I had skivvies and socks left over from the Navy.

Over the weeks, my beloved cousin Troy Harden and his wife Charlene had given me some unused kitchenware, as had Sainted Mother. I had won $200 playing poker with a Korean officer and others while still “in country.” With that I had started a modest collection of camera equipment although I wasn’t any good at photography. I picked up enough groceries and snacks to last a week and bought a cheap alarm clock.

That was about it. The apartment I had rented was furnished. So that was all I needed to start a new life. It all fitted nicely into my 1967 Impala: Steinbeck. I have thought many times since about a life in which all one’s Earthly belongings could fit into a sedan, with room to spare. Was that freedom? Maybe. Or, perhaps, was that already too many possessions? Time would tell.

I loaded up and headed out the day after New Year’s. I saw the sign over VonTungeln's Grocery fade in my rear view mirror and, of course, felt a pang. But, one had to seek new ports in life's voyagers, else the cruise would grow tiresome and stale. I ceased looking aft. A new world beckoned, and life felt like a following breeze blowing from a friendly sea.

I felt good.

 I couldn’t shake the thought, however, that from Little Rock, there was a highway that led to Oklahoma City and west then to adventures galore in the territories. Nothing was stopping me, absolutely nothing. I was about to drop anchor in one of the poorest and least educated states in the union. All I had to do was refrain from applying the brakes. Freedom is a vicious and tempting mistress.

But, here I was in Arkansas, and what did I have to lose? Nothing. Besides, feeling good was good enough for me.

Freedom ... overrated?