Tower Rock IslandS
hake walked back downhill to his campsite, idly wondering if any of the angry black Marines he’d encountered at Camp Lejeune during that turbulent time many years ago might be descendants of the slaves that found their freedom right here on this rock in the middle of the Mississippi River. As he stretched out on his sleeping bag, he could see the moon shining through the trees above him, its size, shape, and brilliance unaltered by space missions. It was a comfort. Like most other people who lived a lot of their lives outdoors, he had a great appreciation for the beauty of the sky. He always tried to make time to look up, appreciating various colors and clouds above him in different parts of the world. And night skies, full of brilliant stars when he was in the field an
