We homo sapiens are all free-falling through this crazy life toward home, and no one really knows what that home will be. We can moan about it, we can sob, we can rage at it, we can laugh out loud about it—everyone gets to choose their own style of dancing. The two of us have posted our choice on a humble refrigerator note: “Not one shred of evidence supports the notion that life is serious.”
ABOUT US AND OUR TOWN, FREEFALL
Here in our little town, Freefall, on the edge of the Navajo reservation, laughter comes in handy. Freefall is not the epicenter of nowhere, but you can see it from here. One year-round cafe, one gas station, a couple of motels, that’s it. About sixty-five miles of desert to the nearest grocery store, doctor, dentist, Wal Mart, McDonalds, all the conveniences of American life.
In this tiny village are Navajos, Mormons, archeologists, polygamists, artists, river runners, small businessmen, kids, retirees, every variety of person. What a jumble we make, scooting around wildly as bumper cars, colliding in good moods and bad, understanding and misunderstanding. Definitely, we have made eccentricity into a high art. The premiere oddballs of the world have landed here, or they’re on their way.
We hope their stories remind you of your own, and we hope you’ll jump in eagerly and tell your tales of the nutty doings in your town or neighborhood (in cities of all sizes). With luck we’ll create an ongoing community of stories. So join the circle and tell your tales, right along with us.
