a word about fossil

Visiting Fossil Oregon brought up feelings that reminded me of those I had while traveling abroad, especially insofar as I felt like a stranger in a strange land. In a town of 430 people, it is hard not to stick out like a sore thumb. As we wandered the quiet streets in the evenings, the good people of Fossil stared at us from the windows of passing pickups and from their front porches -and they always waved. Over greasy but decent breakfasts each morning at one of the town's only cafes, we eavesdropped as local gossip spread from table to table with lightening speed. A table full of old rednecks flirted with the middle aged waitress by irritatingly ringing a bell every time they required a warm up. She went along good-naturedly, but M speculated that she must hate those bastards -and they probably do that every single morning. At a pub one night, a crew of young folks ambled in, one wearing a black broad-brimmed cowboy hat, the sleeves cut off of his shirt. The only girl in the group giggled and clung to her boyfriend's arm. I hoped for the poor thing's sake she could keep herself from getting pregnant, especially if she harbored dreams of ever leaving this god-forsaken place. The boy in the black hat noticed my eyes upon him and tipped his hat courteously in my direction. I was glad we hadn't put the Obama sticker on the car just yet.

Fossil's claim to fame is not only it's proximity to the great paleontological finds to the south and east. An old lake bed behind the town's high school holds a treasure trove of fossils, and anyone with a trowel, a bucket and a little patience can try their hand at locating some to keep. Unfortunately, we were too busy seeing the more dramatic sites and never got to take a trip behind the school. M and I wondered if the Christian churches in Fossil preached the ridiculous notion that the earth was created only 4,000 years ago, despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary lying in their own back yards. I would be surprised if that were so, but then again, maybe not. I was reminded of comedian Bill Hicks' joke that God planted the dinosaur bones on earth just to test our faith -that somehow God is just fucking with us.

What made our visit even more interesting was that an old acquaintance from high school once lived in Fossil. When he found out I was planning a visit (those facebook status statements have a way of getting around) he offered all sorts of helpful advise on what to see and where to go. He even suggested a few out-of-the-way hikes that you won't find in any tourist brochures. And in a way only possible in 2008 with the miracles of wi-fi, facebook, and gmail, he served as our day-by-day tour guide all the way from his current residence in Sweden. I felt as though by imagining his past experiences with the place, we were able to put a more human face on the people and places that we encountered in and around Fossil. I felt I was better able to appreciate the place, being able to see it through someone else's eyes.