Roll your clocks back, everyone, and kiss your daylight hours goodbye, because here is November! Recently, I had the honor of being the Best Man at my friend Jaden’s wedding, and although Jaden is 28 years younger than I am, I had fun delivering the Best Man speech in poetic form. The entire thing was five pages long, and the whole thing rhymed. While at the wedding, I met a couple of unforgettable young teenage ladies from Montana. Gracelynn (17) and Savannah (19) Deuter are sisters, and quite a riot to be around. Imagine a pair of rough-neck country girls with the hats, hair, and boots that every western line-dance might require. These young ladies could dish out all the quick-witted jabs you could handle, and they were funny and charismatic. In the few hours we spent at the wedding, I learned that Savannah is also a poet. So, I challenged her to write a trucking related poem. I didn’t expect such a quick response, but only one week later, I got an email from her with my challenge met. Gracelynn and Savannah, it was such a blessing and a joy to meet you both. Folks, I’d like to introduce you to Savannah and Gracelynn Deuter. The following is Savannah’s intro, and her insightful poem for the drivers out there.
Trevor gave me the opportunity to write my own little poem about truckers. When he first brought it up to me, I said to him that I don’t know a lick about semi-trucks or hauling across the country. But, upon further pondering, I discovered that I did – having traveled back and forth across the country more times than most folk, due to my father’s military occupation. And I may not know much about semis, but I drive tractors, a square-body pickup, tow trailers, and run all kinds of wheeled vehicles. I thought about the long hours in a seat, pulling up for the night in a rest stop, raiding the snack aisle at the gas stations, and counting every mile-marker until we pulled into the driveway. And if you want to see me looking tough, just catch me on Saturday nights, cruising around in my ‘79 GMC. If there is anything I have learned, it’s that a trucker and a western kid may have more in common than previously thought. Here’s a poem I wrote, through the eyes of a trucker, called “It’s The Little Things.” I hope y’all like it!
IT’S THE LITTLE THINGS
By Savannah Deuter
I’m a truck-toting traveler, a freight hauling gypsy,
I drive roads that are slick, iced-over and tipsy.
Time is my mistress, it never leaves me alone,
And that road leads me on, often farther from home.
Some folks may talk, of seeing mountains and deserts,
Beauty unspoken, where time isn’t measured.
Of grand lakes and plains, of a falcon’s high nest,
Of sights and visions, that are all picturesque.
While these views are such, they’re loved and adored,
I prefer views, that are often ignored.
Lacking majesty, reverence, awe, and grandiose,
But these are the sights that I love the most.
The small acts of kindness, exchanged on a street,
Like a child walking by, feeding a chained dog some meat.
Or the lulling and crackling, of soft radio chatter,
Fred keeps me awake, with his ceaseless palaver.
The phone calls from home, the boys tell me their day,
Or the smell of fresh diesel, when I get out to pay.
Racing some horses, while chasing a fence line,
And boxing in jerks, just east of route nine.
The goings are rough, and few pleasures I keep,
I have eight miles left, and sleeps for the weak.
My heart’s delight, waits up over this hill,
I’m almost home, hon, here my arms you will fill.
