You’re a long ways from uptempo urban living when you’re in Horseshoe bend. It’s a small town on highway 55 that sits at the base of a mountain pass on the bend of the mighty Payette river. It’s quiet there. The locals live life as they please. That’s where this house is located.
Joe and I took a long afternoon driving through HB’s mountains and back roads a couple of months ago.
There’s a lot of places to live in this old world. While living in Waco, Texas on my church mission I asked a local why he lived in Waco. (This was the same year that David Koresh had his trouble). He said “Everyone’s gotta be somewhere”.
We worked a few hours at the local food bank every week. The food bank was located in an dank, old, stinky warehouse next to the train tracks. I’ve never heard thunder like the freight trains tearing through Waco. One particular time they got a trailer full of cabbage from a local farmer. “They’re too old to sell, Don’t want to just throw ’em away.”
The cabbage looked a little sad outside in the bright sunlight. It was July and the temperature was in the 100’s. When we pulled the trailer into the loading area, that cabbage smelled like grim death. They were hot to the touch and the pile made a faint hissing sound, like gas escaping. My eyes were wide and I swallowed hard when I heard that our job was to “get out the good ones”.
The director of the food bank was desperate for fresh vegetables so we sorted through the top layer. I gagged my way through it. After I got over the shock of the putrid stench I felt proud, being able to help out in such a difficult situation. That lasted until I pulled a head off the pile and a rat jumped through my legs and out of the trailer. That’s when I decided to quit.
This house doesn’t remind me of that but it did remind me of that experience. The human mind is complicated.