Soon as it was night out we shoved; when we got her out
to about the middle we let her alone, and let her float wherever the current
wanted her to; then we lit the pipes, and dangled our legs in the water, and
talked about all kinds of things—we was always naked, day and night, whenever
the mosquitoes would let us—the new clothes Buck's folks made for me was too
good to be comfortable, and besides I didn't go much on clothes, nohow.
Huck Finn
We watched the movie Mud the other
night. It is the story of two boys who
live in house boats moored by the
Mississippi river in southern Arkansas who befriend a fugitive hiding on
a nearby island. The boys live in a world of romance and
idealism and freedom to roam the wilds of the river. While back in town their parents wrestle with
reality: domestic strife, boredom, and regulation, (if someone moves out of the houses on the
river, the river authority dismantles it), strip malls with Piggly Wiggly stores and
motels line the highway. But there is no
sign of civilization out on the river and on the island with the exception of
an old boat stuck in a tree, left behind in some flood that must have been of
apocalyptic proportions. The boys do not
have helmets for their motorcycle or lifejackets for their boat. They take risks, deal with responsibility and
honor and right and wrong, but not with rules, regulations or authority. They are young boys becoming men in an
unfettered, elemental environment, free to love and dream, to fight, to swear,
to make deals, to desire women. They
agree to get the boat out of the tree for the fugitive to use to escape in
exchange for the 45 caliber pistol he carries in his belt. It is
Huck Finn, Tom Sawyer and Nigger Jim come back to life.