I've been a little slow on blogging, mostly because I was traveling across the Canadian prairies that stretch for around 800 miles. Back in the little village, my first day was with meeting some old friends, followed by a trip on gravel roads and dust to pick corn which would later be cooked. Following that I met a cousin who was fixing his combine, a giant machine that cuts wheat, got my hands dirty, chased away wild geese who eat his wheat and marveled at how beavers could box up a tiny creek into a small lake, all in one day.
The town is small, less than 400 people, two cafes, a library, bank and a few other buildings. And completely silent day and night. Far from LA but also where my formulative memories started.
This morning I went to the Gateway Cafe on the highway south of my town. The highway, 83, starts where I was born and makes it's way south all the way through Manitoba and down onto the U.S. in North Dakota and down all the way to Texas, ending at the Mexican border. I've always wanted to make a documentary on the highway, maybe some day.
Tomorrow I make my first "speaking engagement" at the first library in the little town. I'll use a screenplay, probably the Christmas story, to illustrate how screenplays are written. I"ll also try too explain exactly what screenwriters do, as most people thing actors make up all their own lines.
There's usually a Q&A and I have a few friends who will start it off as most farm people aren't that bold, hopefully it will work out and if not, we'll all have coffee and pastries made by some of the local women. Some things don't change.
But I can't help but enjoy all this even if there wasn't a speaking thing, I still like being back where it all started. The pic below is what it looks like now and ironically not much has changed since 1959. No traffic lights either on Main Street.
Enjoy the pics...
