Nothing fancy

[primroselane]

This summer reminds of a McIlhenny martini, extra hot and extra dry. The pond has maybe two feet of water at the deepest point. Has a strange, nutritious, green-grey color, very similiar to pea soup. A heron stays there most of the day so I guess there is still some life. Probably just frogs. Frogs aren't too picky about accomodations. They are kind of like pigs that way.

Sheep are picky. So I went to Brady yesterday to get another water trough. Stopped at El Flamingo for my weekly carne guisada fix. The food was both reasonable and good. Hot sauce meets my requirements. Wondered how it was that the place got it's name. One is not likely to find a flamingo in a thousand miles in any direction from Brady. Perhaps the original owner was a coastal emmigre. Or an art-deco devotee.

Sometimes I sit in the smoking section, even though I don't, if there are some characters present. I like to hang with people who have addictions. They usually have rough and tumble pasts and enough experience in Twelve Step meetings that they don't mind being open and honest with a stranger. Last week biker daddy, biker mom and twenty-something biker daughter babe were there when I arrived. They had two trikes out front. Biker dad's leg was in a steel brace, His sleeveless arms were covered with tattoos.

Biker dad asked the waitress where Eldorado was. Eldorado is the closest town to the fundamentalist Mormon community, Yearning for Zion. The waitress knew it was in the general area, but really not where, and said so, adding, "I don't go that way." Love that phrase. All we know is where we've been and what we've seen. Love the way the verb "to go" is used in Spanish. The present and future are so much about where one is going and who and what one goes with.

Another biker dude rode up, on a real bicycle. Perhaps there was a DWI in his past, or perhaps with gasoline being over $4 dollars a gallon and cigarettes being over $4 dollars a pack, he had had to make a tough choice.

A seven or so year old girl arrived with a high school sister, mom and grandmother. The seven year old held the door open for everyone. When I was a kid, Camel cigarettes had an advertising jingle that went, "I'd walk a mile for a Camel." The point being, smoking a cigarette was a feel good reward to look forward to. Watching a young person voluntarily show courtesy and consideration for others is a good feeling definitely worth walking a mile, or driving a hundred.

All four ordered ice tea. I understand that to save money, children and adults often drink water, but to see kids not order sodas when cost is not a factor is enjoyable. I like to fantasize that they will go to the trouble of brewing tea for their families when they grow uo.

A few moments later the girl's grandfater arrived. The condition of his workshirt indicated that he had just gotten off from work. I don't know anything about chromosone indicators for smoking, but I do know that if a guy is over fifty and he has some kind of mechanical uniform workshirt, there is a high probability that he smokes.

This week, the smoking section was full so I headed back to the non-smoking section. I realized that there were lots of people with Mexican-American ancestory in the non-smoking section and lots of people with northern European ancestory in the smoking section.

I sat next to a couple about my age.

The waitress was confidant. One got the feeling that she had been feeding lots of people all her life. I have no doubt she could do everything blind or blindfolded if she had to. She also had hustle. Watching someone hustle is worthwhile entertainment as far as I'm concerned. This country definitely needs more hustle role models. People spend huge sums to get educations so that they can get jobs. Just teach a kid to hustle and that kid will always have a job and will always move forward.

The couple next to me finished and when the man stood up, straight and tall, it was very apparent that he was a rancher. His boots were old and had only vague memories of shoe polish. The jeans were well-worn and probably familiar everything soft or wet that comes out of an animal.. The faded, button-down, short-sleeve shirt testified that little of its life had been spent hanging in the closet. (I still have a hard time understanding people discarding clothes before they have had a chance to fade). But the piece de resistance was an old straw hat he picked up from the chair next to where he had been sitting. I haven't seen a hat that abused in years.

Farming and ranching were poverty professions in the 1920's and 30's. The droughts of the 1950's brought the hard times back for many. Groceries, doctor bills, medicine, bank notes, tractor and truck parts, along with school clothes and supplies made a new hat a luxury that many men could not allow themselves. Some men wore a hat so long that the only thing that suggested that it was a hat was that it had evidently been intentionally placed on their head and allowed to remain there.

The uneven brims weren't rolled up, they were crumpled. That hat had been grabbed and waved at a lot of obstinate creatures and probably more than once made a mean critter back down. No doubt there were many times when a breeze got lazy that the hat had made up the difference. The color was one part straw, one part sweat and one part dirt. There hat had some spots that are probably best just wondered about.. This hat had shown up for a hard day's work, rain or shine, baking hot or freezing cold, for years. And never one word of complaint. Reminds me somewhat of a good working dog.

Some say clothes make the man. If so, it doesn't appear that there would be much to such a man. Cowboy attire did not earn its fame by partying, the items acquired respect through work. This rancher's dress is his resume--I show up every day and work hard, I remember the manners my momma taught me, I don't need what I don't need, I don't worry what others think, and I appreciate what I have. His momma done good.

No doubt this fellow could have worn a more stylish and impressive hat. Guess maybe the rancher was comfortable with what he had. No doubt his wife could have insisted that the rancher wear a cleaner, less hidious looking hat. Guess maybe the rancher's wife was comfortable with what she had.

The word "genuine" was much more prevalent in my parents era than today. It was often used in comparison to the words. "cheap imitation". Bet the rancher's wife had discussions with her parents growing up about the difference between genuine and cheap imitations. Her momma done good.

I made one final check of my plate, the chip basket and the tortilla container, and ascertaining that there was nothing left to eat, I got up, left the tip and paid the bill. Stopped at the Walmart Super Center for some groceries and headed home.

Ken and Donna Bode live on Highway 71, halfway between Llano and Brady. Their great-grandparents farmed and ranched the land. They grow enough vegetables to sell to passerbys. This summer has made physical and emotional wrecks of my tomato plants. Ken and Donna are still pulling some real nice tomatos. So I pulled off onto their driveway.

It is not an official vegetable stand, just a couple of cafeteria tables between two post oak trees. If a person wants what is harvested that day, fine. If they don't, thanks for dropping by.

Ken and Donna decided several years back that life was just too busy to meet and greet every stopper by. So they have a sign that lets one know that the operation is on the honor system. Prices are on paper plates. There is a cash box with money on one of the tables. The last line on the sign reads, "If you "R" dishonest, yours "R" free."

The land is rich and inspiring. The wildflowers along the highway can be awesome. It is kind of what I picture the Hobbit's Shire being like. The house Ken and Donna live in is over a hundred years old. It has known birthings and dyings, fighting and loving, worrying and praying, silence and singing. Ken and Donna would tell you "it's nothing fancy." For those who do not speak Texian, "nothing fancy" means "absolutely nothing fancy." But, the house is over a hundred years old and the people inside are happy. I think that is what makes a house a home.

Every year more and more new people, some real, some surreal, with new ways show up. They may have fancy homes, fancy vehicles, fancy clothes and/or fancy hats. But inside, there is nothing fancy.

[Minelson]

I really enjoyed reading this. Your descriptions made me feel like I was there. Thank you for sharing this experience and helping me to notice and enjoy simplicity today

[Melissa]

You have a way of crawling inside someone's head and saying what is felt but can't be expressed. I know men who wear those hats, sounds like you really know them too.

[Cabin Fever]

Wow Primrose, you can certainly paint a picture with words! I was totally lost in your story...I mean, it consumed me...my entire attention was focused on each word and thought. A phone message was left while I read, heck I had no idea the phone was even ringing! That's how immersed I was. In a way, your writing reminds me of some of the songs by Lyle Lovett.

Thank you for your efforts in bringing this gift to me and others. In my book, you are genuine.

[unregistered5595]

Primrose, that was amazing, thank you! ~feather

[JGex]

Not sure if you've considered it, but you should submit some of your writings to some publications. Writing that good deserves to be read.

[Sabrina67]

Wow that was very nice. At first I thought "thats long" after reading it I was sure it was too short
I agree with JGex you really should submit some of your writing, it is beautiful.

[primroselane]

Thanks.

I watched the Evelyn Cameron piece on PBS again last week. Her photographs make the ordinariness and the extraordinariness of the people and places of frontier life so very real and so very inspiring.

Change is like a shopping mall or a hydro-electric ----, it tends to bury the past.

Regarding publishing, one Texas writer commented that he realized that he could write, or try to publish, but not both. I am trying to take as many photographs as I can of the people and places of my times before they are gone.

Very nice word picture.

I have a hat that is gradually gaining character such as you describe. It's looking rather worn, but I wouldn't take a hundred bucks for it. We've been through a lot together.

.....Alan.

[sssarawolf]

Very nice story made me smile.

[Shepherd]

Originally Posted by Sabrina67

At first I thought "thats long" after reading it I was sure it was too short

I thought the same thing!

Thank you for that little 'escape' - I truly enjoyed reading it. PS - I have a hat like that. You shouldda seen my last one, ROFL - I finally burned it after 4 years. *sigh* that was hard. I knew if I didn't, I'd keep wearing the poor ol' thing!

[Oggie]

Thanks for inviting us to lunch.

It was almost like being there.