The Numinous

“We drove 22 miles into the country around Farmington. There were meadows and apple orchards. White fences trailed through the rolling fields. Soon the sign started appearing. THE MOST PHOTOGRAPHED BARN IN AMERICA. We counted five signs before we reached the site. There were 40 cars and a tour bus in the makeshift lot. We walked along a cowpath to the slightly elevated spot set aside for viewing and photographing. All the people had cameras; some had tripods, telephoto lenses, filter kits. A man in a booth sold postcards and slides -- pictures of the barn taken from the elevated spot. We stood near a grove of trees and watched the photographers. Murray maintained a prolonged silence, occasionally scrawling some notes in a little book.
"No one sees the barn," he said finally.
A long silence followed.
"Once you've seen the signs about the barn, it becomes impossible to see the barn."
He fell silent once more. People with cameras left the elevated site, replaced by others.
We're not here to capture an image, we're here to maintain one. Every photograph reinforces the aura. Can you feel it, Jack? An accumulation of nameless energies."
There was an extended silence. The man in the booth sold postcards and slides.
"Being here is a kind of spiritual surrender. We see only what the others see. The thousands who were here in the past, those who will come in the future. We've agreed to be part of a collective perception. It literally colors our vision. A religious experience in a way, like all tourism."
Don DeLillo, White Noise

On a rainy day like today I worry I might go to the Grand Canyon and come away uninspired.
A picture perfect barn? A restored ’59 Chevy Apache?
I really prefer my barns decrepit, weather-beaten, barely standing. My trucks all rusted out with broken headlights and a birds nest in the wheel wells
Like the State Fair. Big Tex? Dumb. Almost as dumb as those gaudy Angels on Bass Hall. Unless you can catch him on fire. now that's a picture.
The Car Show? Yawn.
Fletchers Corny Dog, ok, yeah yeah yeah, I get it. I like the corny dogs. And I like the Art Deco sculptures
But the high point for me, the sight that inspires me in a spiritual way, is watching the kid in the wheelchair at the rodeo, his chair positioned where they let the handicapped sit right up next to the arena rails, so close your hair blows back when the horses fly past.
That is the best..
The Numinous.

Gizmo the Goat

I came home from work one day last year. My son is on the computer. He looks up and says“Hey look dad, I can get us a pygmy goat!”
“Oh yeah? Lets see”
He shows me the goat on the computer. Eighty five dollar for a goat.
“Wouldn’t that be great?” and he laughs.
“Oh yeah, that’s just what we need is a goat” and I laugh.
“We could ride him. He could keep the grass mowed. Maybe teach him to do tricks”
But the look Lee has on his face, his head on a bias, licking his lips, and the faint (overpowering) smell of alcohol on his breath, I’m afraid he might be serious.
‘Say man, you are just foolin’ around, right? Because we can’t have no goat around here. I lead a simple life. It does not include farm animals and feed. My only experience with goats is when my grandfather gave me a bicycle and a goat ate the seat and Grandpa shot the goat. Goats are bad luck”
“Yeah, I’m jus’ foolin’ around” he says “but wouldn’t it be cool?”

The next day I come home from work. Walk in the front door. Where’s Lee? Must be in the backyard. So I go to the back door, open it and what do I see? It’s a pygmy goat. Wearing a tactical vest. A goat in a tactical vest. He looks like he is about to invade Afghanistan, and he is in my backyard.

And there is Lee, grinnin’ ear to ear.
“You did not go get the goat I told you not to go get” I say.
I’m pissed.
“But dad, Gizmo will keep the yard mowed”
I’m even more pissed. The goat even has a name.
“I have a lawnmower. He will eat the house. He cant stay. You have to find someplace to take him because he can’t stay here.”
“But Dad…” and he tries to sell me on the goat.

I don’t want a goat., I don’t even want a dog. Even a goldfish is pushing it. My backyard is not a pasture. I have no idea what the zoning ordinances are. I don’t NEED to know because the simple fact is I’m not keeping a goat in my backyard. I give him three days to get shed of the goat.
Over the next 48 hours the goat escaped the backyard CONTINUALLY. Completely outsmarted my son on the daily. And the smell. This goat smelled like rotted buck mutton. The whole yard smelled. The FRONT PORCH smelled like goat. Finally on day two of goat hell the goat escaped and Lee wasn’t here to run him down. I found myself running down the street to drag the goat to the backyard. About that time Lee showed up.
I was livid.
"I want that goat gone tonight. That’s it. I am done"
Lee looked at me and blinked his eyes.
*BLINK-BLINK*
“Dad, I got some fencing material to put up to help keep him in”
And that was it for me.
I was screaming.
‘You aren’t listening to me! That goat can’t stay. In fact, forget tonight. You and the goat are gone RIGHT NOW. If Gizmo is still here in five minutes I’m going to shoot him in the head”
I don’t think I’ve ever been that mad.

So over to Granny’s he and Gizmo went. Gizmo got out at Granny’s too. We don’t know for sure what happened to Gizmo, but I’m betting he never got out again.