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Terlingua Reprise - False Hopes

The Jim Beam burned just right on the way down.  I appreciate  consistency.

Nine Points in the distance

Tuco the Dog and I had stayed outside until dark.  We were watching the rare sight of rain-fat clouds roiling up from the west.  Far, far distant thunder rolled down from Agua Fria and Saddleback Mountain punctuated by flashes of lightning.  There was no sound other than the far away thunder grumbles.   No birds chirping, no dogs barking, no whine of tires on pavement or car doors slamming from the neighbor’s driveway.  Nada but the sound the wind makes when it blows across your ear holes. Tuco the Dog was content to lay at my feet as I watched events unfold.  Streaks of rain drew down in shadowed diagonals from the clouds but it was visual relief alone.  None of the rain reached the ground; evaporating to be recycled somewhere else at some other time.   7% humidity will do that to ya.

Found out today we are not going to called back on that Forest Oil gate west of Ft Stockton.  Miss K emailed the Company Man to check on our status and his response was that we had been replaced by a cheaper company out of Odessa.  He was quite gracious and apologetic, indicating he would have preferred to have us back.  Some Sharp Pencil in Houston over rode that desire on his part.  Bad as I hate to, looks like we are going to have to head East to pick up some work in the Eagle Ford.  Everything happens for a reason and whatever else is said, we had a good 60 day run out here in Far West Texas.

Miss K diggin' in the desert dirtLord knows we needed a break.  It had been far too long since we had stood down for even 24 hours.  The time here at the Desert Refuge allowed us to immerse ourselves in the local goings on which perhaps is a  foreshadowing of future events. I seem to recall a comment from one of my respected blog readers a few months back that  admonished ‘I can’t go back to the way it was.’  — meaning Mayberryesque America is long gone.  I entertained the notion that maybe he was right for some time. That tweeting crowd is a formidable force and I was mighty tired from swimming upstream against that government torrent anyhow.  Maybe it would be best just to put aside my values and beliefs and get in line with my brother lemmings and stick out my lemming paw or lemming flipper (like I know what a lemming even looks like) and grab me up some of that government dole.  Easy street beckons my brother and all you have to do is acknowledge freedoms lost and the munificence of our Fed Gov. Hell, everybody else is doing it; why not me and mine?

It smacks of socialism; that’s why. Pure and simple and I just ain’t ready to sign up.  It stands to reason that if Miss K and I were utterly disenchanted with the direction Mainstream America was headed there should be others of like mind as well.  Now mind what I say, I am not talking about anarchists or skin-headed would be freedom fighters;  I have no desire to see their video fantasy hopes fulfilled.  There must be somewhere left in this country where the land shaped the man not vice versa. Where a handshake and a promise meant means something and a neighbor in need meant you were beholding to lend a hand.  Hanging out at the Community Center has me mostly convinced that our Desert Refuge down Terlingua way is the place we fit. It is not Galt’s Gulch but it is the closest thing I have found.

The cabin takes shape

Everybody down here has made their own way and I give them credits for that.  There are no tract homes or suburban sprawl.  Best chances are your abode is a result of sweat equity be it a shipping container or a shack or a compound constructed over years of effort.   Earlier this week, I went and helped a friend raise the walls on a 12’X16′ cabin.  It has taken him 3 years to get to this point. 192 square feet of pure opulence as far as he was concerned.  After the last wall was secured and we took a break he said ‘I owe each one of you a debt for helping me.’  The statement was heartfelt and genuine and I have no doubt as to its’ alacrity.   So be it.  I am convinced Miss Kathy and I were destined to be at this place at this time.  Everything happens for a reason

One of the things I hate are the internet blog preachers that insist THEIR way is the only way. I can only hope I do not leave you feeling that my message exhorts you to follow my path.  I am a patriot and a father and a husband–each of which requires a different hat.  No doubt some of my readers agree with my assertions and beliefs, others just cringe and hope I will get back on topic ASAP. What can I say?  I share my experiences, my thoughts and my dreams  best I can. Maybe our paths will cross and maybe they will always be divergent.  I write to assuage a hungry and homeless soul.

It is what it is. Nothing more and nothing less.

End Note: Gold to Me by Ben Harper from the Fight for Your Mind cd.  For Miss K.  She held my hand and did not hesitate as we jumped into the void.  No second thoughts or what-might-have beens.  No hindsight reproach nor a single call out voicing doubt. I have not known a stronger woman than her ever in my life.

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8 comments to Terlingua Reprise – False Hopes

  • It takes bravery and courage to go against the tide…living from the heart, and not from the social convention. I too, am a patriot, and I am where I am supposed to be. Sounds like you and Miss K found the ideal.

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  • don

    I’m glad to hear you have found a place and a people who speak to you. You would not be the man you are if you did not search out your own way.

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  • Don

    West Texas is full of good folks, albeit it might take a little effort to get in with their click, looks like y’all won’t have any problem with that.

    What catches my attention about this post though is I see you and Tuco relaxing, with beverage in hand, enjoying the scenery while in the next photo Miss Kathy is on all fours digging in the dirt!

    What’s up with that, you got her digging for water or what? 😉

    Don

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    • Andrew

      Don,
      I can’t do anything with that woman! She was digging here, transplanting there, watering this, pruning that.

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  • Hey Andy, I think you write really well. A few times, like with this post, I have to read it more than once. This one I read several times and read it aloud to my wife. You speak from the heart and convey a real sense of place. Good luck to you and Miss K.

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    • Andrew

      Thank you for the kind words Dean. It is good to know I have a few folks that read my words.

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  • I was digging up roots from the driveway. I came across one that actually bent my $40 pruning shears. I figured out after awhile, we have Ironwood growing on our property. I didn’t want the old bus to catch a flat on the pokey stumps so I was digging them out by hand.

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  • David Evans

    Glad you explained what you were doing down digging..It’s surprising how sharp any little stumps left behind can be..Changing tires is not a good way to learn..
    Upriverdavid

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