Wandering Texas

My living room is one big souvenir box of our many vacations out West. In 1990 we went to Texas and came home with lots of great memories in addition to ‘stuff’ I’m now selling off. I wanted to attend a Book Lover’s Convention in San Antonio that year and Don was more than willing to go along. I was a member of the Romance Writers of America back then and the convention drew 600 ladies and a couple dozen men. Don loved being one of those guys at the book fair portion of the three day event and he was such a good sport. I’d given him an autograph book and a list of author’s tables where I wanted him to visit and he dutifully---probably gleefully---stood in lines while I went to workshops and lectures. He’d never read a romance book in his life, but he could talk the talk; he’d been the proof-reader for my bi-monthly book review newsletter for over a decade. It was a subscription publication that started out as a campaign against rape scenes is books labeled ‘romance' and it grew into a 28 page “newsletter” by the time I had to give it up to make time to share-care my dad.

Wandering the back roads of Texas before and after those days in San Antonio was an eye-opener. We came back knowing that although Affirmative Action seemed to have out-grown its usefulness in Michigan that sure wasn’t the case in Texas. For example, in a town too small for a traffic light we were in a store waiting to pay for something when a siren started blasting. Don asked the shop owner, a man in his mid-forties, what the siren was for and the man laughed and answered: "That’s the siren for the volunteer fire department. One blast for the white side of Main Street, two blasts for the businesses on Main Street and three blasts for the black side of Main Street. That one’s three blasts and no one is going to answer that one.” There was no shame in that admission, no hint that there was anything but delight in the man’s voice. Don and I looked at each other, set our would-be purchase down and walked out.

But we met some great people in Texas, too. One couple who befriended us had invited us to a party and to this day I regret being too chicken or polite or stupid to accept their offer. It was a party for Ann Richards who was elected the governor of Texas the following month. We’d never heard of her before, didn’t know how outrageous and dynamic she was. Didn’t know how important she’d become to the Democratic Party in later years. But I can image what would have happened if Don and Ann had gotten the chance to swap stories. He could out-story anyone and just the thought of those two together makes me grin. 

Texas was full of colorful character back then. Late one afternoon we ran into a guy who owned an antique store and he had a steer head scull on the porch that Don wanted to buy. The guy wouldn’t sell it to him but he said, “Come back tomorrow. I’ve got twenty-five more coming in the morning.” “If you’ve got more coming tomorrow,” Don replied, “why won’t you sell me that one today?” “I can’t”, the guy answered, “if I sell that one, I won’t have any left until tomorrow.” Around and around they went and we left without a bleached-out scull. Up here in Michigan, if you have a customer with cash in hand, you take it. We did get a steer head in our travels that year, probably a slander house special and it still hangs in the living room today. 

Another interesting encounter we had happened when we’d stumbled into a bar full of Native Americans one Saturday night while trying to find a place to get a thermos filled. All I can say is I was glad there was a BIG guy there wearing a badge. He stuck to us like glue until we got our business done and was out of the place. At one point when one of the locals challenged Don to a game of pool the big guy answered for Don that we were just passing through. Under his breath he was probably adding, “just a couple of dumb-ass tourists who think they’re Roy Roger and Dale Evans.’

From the back roads of Texas we picked up a couple of phrases that became part of our permanent vocabularies. One of those phrases we heard repeated by five-six guys was, “I’m a multi-millionaire, you know.” Over the years as Don and I would reminisce about wandering Texas those words would come bubbling out of our mouths. Another phrase we came home with was, “Don’t ever start buying food. Once you start, you’ll never stop!” We had run into a woman picking through garbage cans one night while walking the dog. She liked us and gifted us with that little bit of philosophy and many times over the years when we’d be going into a grocery store, one of us would say, “Muriel was right. Once you start buying food, you can’t stop.” We heard the next day that Muriel owned half the closed-up stores in that tiny town where she ate out of the garbage cans.  

When you go off the beaten tracks of any state you come home with quirky stories to tell and that's the way we always traveled. ©

Photo: That's my living room with cow's scull mixed in with the art work.