LOUISIANA: MARCH 25
Massive trucks roar east on Interstate 10 from Beaumont to Baton Rouge. The Honda 125 is a flee. I am a plump tick on the back of the flee. Flee and tick quiver in the slipstreams. We escape north on State 165 towards Alexandria and Natchez. Louisiana is as flat as Texas. However fields are green and the road runs for mile upon mile through loose woodland. Broad leaf trees are faintly powdered with emerald green. Wild flowers edge the road. Brilliant splashes of deep pink azalea mark houses tucked amongst the trees. Trailer homes are common. Many are old and shabby; backs broken, they sag at each end as do old wooden ships beached on the mud.
And, of course, there are churches.
Christian churches painted in gleaming white serve or are served by a bewildering assortment of congregations. Is there a true difference between the dozen or more Baptist sects? Enough over which to divide a small rural community? Or merely sufficient to keep a pastor in food. There are Methodists and Independent Methodists, Seventh Day Adventists and Lutherans; best of all, the Church of Christ. What are the rest? Such exclusion, such splendid arrogance of faith...
