Everyone is born a king, and most people die in exile. Oscar Wilde
Of all the pictures taken on our recent trip, this is Jay's favorite. Forget all my majestic masterpieces, artistic Ansel Adams-esque snapshots of snow. Forget some of them were taken as I hung the camera outside the window of a SUV moving 40-50 mph.
Yes, forget all of that. Jay was fixated on a frozen Frisch's statue exiled in Indiana.
If it had not been for ice, snow and the business establishment closed for the inclement weather, I'm certain we would have strapped a hulking Hoosier Big Boy to the luggage rack of the Sante Fe after extricating him from a chainlinked fence exile to his new Kentucky home.
Perhaps perched on the fishing pier as god of the lake as the summer sun shines bright or poised on our deck amid the tomatoes and herbs as king of the gas grill. Jay even fantasized that Big Boy would become an ensconced art installation in a fabulous yet currently unconstructed corner art/music studio in the basement.
A muse for our collective creative passions!
Really? Big Boy?
I'm not so sure Big Boy would love his new exile to our basement any more than his current prison in a nameless Southeastern Indiana town nestled somewhere between I-don't-know and God-knows-where on this grey February day. He'd just be another piece of clutter amidst seven years of collected boxes, files, art supplies, sheet music, DVDs, CDs, books, clothing and other ephemera -- which is just a really nice word to describe all of our accumulated crap.
As much as Jay really wanted to free Big Boy (just to imprison him in our home), Big Boy wasn't doing much to assist in his freedom. He was perfectly satisfied to smile blankly at those who quickly passed him en route to their destinations.
Just a lifeless, inanimate fiberglass shell-of-a-man.
Another lesson learned on the free journey:
it's difficult to free someone who just doesn't want to be free.
