*Excerpt from the upcoming trucking memoirs.
Not all of my memorable moments on the road had to do with the police.
Some of them are related to music. Driving through a small town in Oklahoma and looking to pick up some things from Walmart, I go off course and down a tight street. On the side of the road is an old Native American selling dream catchers and other Native American-made items.
I park my semi in the Walmart parking lot and walk back to see what else he is selling. On the tables under his canopy, he has a couple of dozen hand made flutes from reeds and from wood.
“Do dreamcatchers catch both good and bad dreams? I ask.
“Pretty much,” he says.
“Did you make these flutes and their etchings?” I ask. Different symbols, birds, and an arrow adorn the instrument.
“Yes. I created them. I made both 5-hole and 6-hole flutes. Some are made of wood and some are made of reeds found on the Red River that separates Texas and Oklahoma.”
He hands me a flute to take a closer look at it. As I check out the craftsmanship and the etched artwork, a lady in a SUV pulls up in front of the stand. There is no shoulder, so she is potentially blocking traffic. She comes over to the table, picks up two flutes, and pays the man $300. She thanks him and quickly leaves.
“Are you ‘J. Prince?” I ask referring to his name sketched on the flute.
“Yes.”
“How come some of the flutes have 5-holes and others have 6-holes?”
“When the White-man showed up, they added another hole,” he answers plainly.
I don’t know if he is bullshitting me, is passing on lore, or is being accurate and sincere.
“How much is that 5-holed flute made from reed?”
“$140.”
“Sold,” I say. “Can you give me a quick lesson?”
He shows me how it works. I plays much like a recorder, but has a much better wind instrument sound. He plays a few different melodies and styles. What was nice about this instrument, is that you only need one hand for some of the notes; now I have an instrument to practice while I am driving semi.
