In one small way, if only for a moment, I shall one-up Professor Dean (who you shall, I’m sure, find elsewhere in this periodical.) You see, I want to take you back, not to any great American war, not to the founding of our fair county, not even to the landing of some fellow name of Smith upon the shores of our peninsula. Way, way before all that…before, indeed, any humans walked our land at all. Imagine, if you can: only the four-legged mammals moving to and fro on “our” land. One day, one particular day, a rabbit (or perhaps a fox) took a certain route home. It found the path quite pleasing, and continued at least daily. Others joined in. Were you transported back those thousands of years there would be no doubt, you would recognize a narrow pathway existed.

When the Native Americans arrived, they found the route superior and enlarged it. One day, the first man (or woman?) traveled it via horseback. In time, the white man went through with a wagon. Decades whizzed past. Stanley Steamers and Packards, wooden bridges, oyster shells, concrete, blacktop. Your author’s point? I believe it true that, somewhere in this county, there’s at least one stretch of highway that could be traced back to some squirrel or opossum. Certainly, many of our roadways are far removed from such a thing. Only the most rabid of raccoon could come up with the traffic pattern at Walmart! Since on the topic of paths, I shall change the direction of the one I am now on.

It was earlier this autumn that I accompanied a friend as they ran an errand in downtown Denton. The person working the counter was all alone; we may have been the day’s first visitors. After the usual introduction and pleasantries, a conversation began. My companion had their choice of routes to take. This is something like what I heard:

Aloysius: It’s a shame this town has gone so far downhill.

Gunther: Hmm.

Aloysius: I mean, look how dead it is down here.

Gunther: Well…

Aloysius: Nobody knows your here!

Gunther: That seems to be true…

Aloysius: You bet it is! Why don’t THEY do something about it?

Gunther: I know! Somebody should.

Bryan: I think…

Aloysius: I guess it’s hopeless. Nobody cares.

Bryan: Denton has…

Aloysius: Yep, totally hopeless!

Bryan: And so many poss…

Gunther: Agreed, hopeless. Totally hopeless!

It was around that time that I snuck out the side door. I don’t know how the talk went from there, but I have to wonder how the rest of “Gunther’s” day went.

In each step of our day, each junction of an interaction with another of our strange species, we have choices to make. A line from a favorite song of mine, by Keith Whitley: “High road, low road, some old side road…” Shall you improve the situation, or steer it towards the muck and mire? Offer solutions, or only wallow in dismay? I can hardly call myself that much better. I can think of multiple occasions where I’ve joined in, even at church, taking the path that leads down, down, down. Perhaps, just perhaps, the next time I find myself in that situation I will remember that time I wrote about it in the Caroline Review, and I’ll stop and think. Maybe you can find a similar method of remembering? Just remember: the path you choose today could lead to something significant tomorrow. For better, or for worse.