TEXAS POSTSCRIPT

This is a (sort of) continuation of my recent post Memories of West Texas. Nothing profound - - just a few afterthoughts.

I always emphasize that I lived in WEST Texas. This is because it's radically different from other parts of the state. Raw, rude, crude - - it is the untamed epitome of the wild west.

Somehow - amid the unrelenting inhospitality - there is a fierce romanticism, steeped in a surrealistic dream. The brutal, unrelenting dust storms, the fiercely burning sunsets, the endless skies and boundless land. If nothing else, it will pique your imagination and inspire your soul.

Gringos are minorities. I loved the Mexican culture and traditions - - and the food. I admired the hard-working ranchers and genuine cowboys.
I forced myself to be a Texan, but it wasn't truly in my heart. I knew that I didn't belong.......

Amid the vast intrigue, there were (many) disadvantages - - -

A blogger friend, A Brit in Tennessee, mentioned in a comment on my blog about experiencing a strong smell of burning oil while she was traveling through Texas.

I could relate to that. My (retired) parents had a home in Odessa, TX. Whenever the wind blew on target, there was a very strong stench from the nearby oil refineries. It was overpowering.

Me at my parent's house in Odessa

Another incredible West Texas phenomenon are the frequent dust storms. You'd have to experience them firsthand in order to absorb their potency.

My back yard during a dust storm

I often wrote about the searing heat and droughts in West Texas - - yet I included photos of snow in my Memories of West Texas video.

After my father died in Odessa, my mother sold the house and I moved up north with her (and cared for her until she died four years later). We lived on the high plains in a tiny town about forty miles from Lubbock. The winters there could be harsh.

My mother died in December, 2009, and that was the worst winter I could remember. Numerous blizzards and ice storms.
Fortunately, snow usually doesn't last very long in West TX. It melts in a few days.

My pickup truck

Back yard

A few more (unrelated) photos from West TX

Pumpkins from my garden

Pumpkins in the snow

Tortoise in back yard

This fox stayed in my back yard for three days, then mysteriously disappeared.

The Concho River in San Angelo (where I lived for several years) and statue of a mermaid holding a Concho pearl.

Me by the surveyor's shack at Fort Concho

My trusty truck

My (sometimes) dusty boots

MEMORIES OF WEST TEXAS

 

I initially despised everything about West Texas when I moved there. It's not a place for the timid or faint of heart. Crude, tough, unsophisticated, seemingly lawless, relentlessly unforgiving. Endless dust storms and violent winds, searing heat, brutal droughts, hoards of scorpions, rattlesnakes, tarantulas, fire ants, and chiggers.

I only came to Texas to be near my retired parents. We eventually all realized that it could be an inhospitable place to unsuspecting outsiders.

My initial disdain for West TX was intensified because of all the unpleasant times and bad luck that I had there. Both of my parents died there. I later eventually lost all my savings due to bad business deals and identity theft. It took nearly four years to sell my house. It was  a large, beautiful home - but it was located in a tiny one-horse town where nobody wanted to live and where money was scarce.

After the house finally sold, I and my three cats headed to rural Tennessee - where I now find myself existing in acute poverty, alarming squalor, and unrelenting  ill health.

In retrospect - despite the bad times - West Texas has a lot of unexpected and  untamed beauty. My frequent explorations yielded many pleasant surprises - and I took some of my best (and favorite) photos there

If it wasn't for all the devastatingly negative times, perhaps I would miss it.

The music I chose for the video is one of my absolute all-time favorites - - Recuerdos de la Alhambra by Francisco Terrega (1852 - 1909). It is hauntingly bittersweet, with tender sadness and yearning for memories of the past.

                                              Jon

Video is best viewed full-screen 

MEMORIES OF WEST TEXAS

I lived in West Texas for many more years than I care to remember. I went there solely to be near my retired parents.

I always emphasize West Texas, because it's a world apart from other areas of the vast state. And it's a severe culture shock for someone who was raised in Southern California like myself:
it's a raw, rowdy, crude, rough, unforgiving, sometimes lawless place.

I lived in three TX towns - San Angelo, Odessa, and a minuscule cow town on the high plains about 50 miles from Lubbock (which shall remain nameless).

Both of my parents died in Texas. After my father died in 2005, I took care of my Mom until she passed away in 2009.

My intense disdain for Texas came from the fact that I had some incredible bad luck there and wound up losing an enormous (and I mean enormous) amount of money. Which explains why I'm presently living in poverty in Tennessee.
Texas provided me with a myriad of bad memories.

Despite all the negatives, there are things that I miss about Texas:
the sprawling endlessness of the land, the vast skies and incredible sunsets, the ravaging surrealistic dust storms, the ubiquitous Mexican culture. And the food.

Texas is where I bought my infamous El Cheapo digital camera, which quickly became my inspiration for taking a vast amount of photos.

My most recent video, Memories of West Texas, contains a small collection of photos from my massive Texas files. It was very difficult to choose favorites.

The accompanying music that I picked is the haunting Recuerdos de la Alhambra by Francisco Terrega (1852 - 1909) - - one of my all-time favorite Spanish compositions.

Video (as always) best viewed in full-screen mode.

IT'S FINALLY OVER

Okay, let's admit it - 
aren't you glad this Christmas crap is finally over? Don't you feel foolish for putting up all those tedious decorations and spending all your money on gifts, simply because Tradition dictates it?

Relax. I'm just trying to make you feel even worse than you already do. I meant no harm.

If I ever knew Tennessee has Siberian winters, I would have never moved here. I try to use the heat very sparingly - but I'm terrified to see my next heating bill. December has been a cold bitch. 

There was sleet and then light snow on Christmas Eve, and it got down to 16 degrees here on the mountain .

On Christmas Day I jokingly said (to myself and the cats) "I'll bet we're almost as cold as Donner Pass".
Just for the hell of it, I Googled the temperature for Donner Pass. It was 29 degrees there.......and 22 degrees here.
We were colder!

Deriving inspiration from the Donner Party, I've been secretly sizing up the cats - deciding which one I'll eat first if bad comes to worse. I've decided to start with Bosco. He's huge and meaty.

 Bosco

This is a rather old photo - he has grown since then. 

The photo of my hat in the snow was taken in Texas. Despite popular belief to the contrary, parts of Texas can get damn cold in the winter. I lived on the high plains of West Texas (with an altitude of over 3,400 feet). The winters could be frigid - with blizzards, ice, and brutally cold winds. Fortunately the snow usually melted quickly.

I used to send my weather-related photos to a TV station in Lubbock and they occasionally used them on the news. Here are a few Texas winter photos:

 By the side of my house

 "Frost" on the pumpkin

 In my back yard. I really loved this stone bench and birdbath (and paid a lot of money for them) but they were too heavy to take with me when I moved.

On the day that my mother died (in December, 2009) there was a blizzard and ice storm. I came home from the hospital and sat on this bench in the snow for over two hours, until long after dark.

Extremely painful memory, but I thought I'd mention it. 

FLAGS, RAIN, CATS, MICE

Note:
This blog post was far too long and disjointed, so I decided to drastically edit it. Now, it's a little shorter and even more disjointed.
In keeping with my recent Flag theme, I've posted the above photo which I took when I lived in Texas. 

 

Well, it looks like everybody survived my previous blog post. A quick head count confirms that I haven't lost any followers. I hate the term "followers". It makes me sound like Rasputin. Or Aimee Semple McPherson.

Undoubtedly my charm and sense of humor saved me.

What charm and sense of humor, Jon?

Hey, don't try to be funny.

The rainbow flag (in my previous post) also helped. When in doubt, disarm everyone with a rainbow flag. Just don't try to fly it in Tennessee. The Baptists will shoot you.
Praise the Lord.

In Tennessee rainbow flags are best kept in the closet (no pun intended). Tennesseans can be disarmed with Confederate flags. Is "Tennesseans" spelled correctly?

None of this will make any sense unless you read my previous post. And even then, it probably won't make any sense.

Despite the bright beginning to this blog post, I'm still in a miserable, bleak, and dire mood.

It's amazing and admirable, Jon, that you can still be witty and cheerful when you're miserable, bleak, and dire.

That's nothing. You should see me on a good day.

I tried to put a temporary fix on the broken water pipes but nothing worked. The plumber can't come for a few more days, and I've been without water for nearly a week. I drove to town last Saturday to get groceries and bottled water. Water goes quickly in hot weather and I'll soon need more.

Besides having no water, I'm also still plagued with other problems. Back pain and other health issues. Multitudes of annoying insects. Endless storms. And piles of unpacked junk because there's absolutely nowhere to put anything. I gave up trying to do any more outdoor painting or yard work because of the rain.

I'm very used to inconveniences. Life has been one Big Inconvenience ever since I came here. If anything went right, the shock would kill me.


  Despite all the hassles, I'd still choose Tennessee over Texas. Texas was a nightmare of endless wind, persistent drought, ruthless dust storms. Not to mention the worst people imaginable. My neighbors were drug dealers who had continuous all-night parties. Six families lived in one house, and a dozen (no exaggeration) completely unsupervised kids tortured me for years.

This is my back yard in Texas

during a typical dust storm 

Here in Tennessee, I at least have peace and privacy, in a lovely rural atmosphere. Some of the people around here are gun-toting moonshiners, but - what the hell. They all go to church on Sunday.

Ouch, Jon, that hurt.

Views from my property in Tennessee

"Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."
 

Did I mention rain? There are storms every day. Last night the storms were horrific, with Biblical downpours and such intense lightning that it knocked the sins right out of me and sent them rolling around on the floor. A crappy analogy, but it's all I could come up with. If I was getting paid for writing this, I'd have the incentive to do better.

My three cats went into hiding during the duration of the deluge. When the storm finally subsided, Scratch emerged carrying a mouse in her mouth. The kidnapped rodent was still alive. It somehow managed to escape, and we (Scratch and I) chased it around the living room.

Having the kind soul of St. Francis of Assisi, it was my intention to capture the mouse and set it free. Scratch had other ideas.

Later, exhausted from storms and rodents, I fell asleep on the sofa. I periodically heard all the cats scurrying to catch the mouse.

Your rodent tail (tale?) is getting too long, Jon. What the heck happened?

Dawn came with a sunny smile. I went into the bedroom, wondering what happened to the mouse. 
Jokingly, I said "Maybe the cats put it in my bed."

.....I swear to God, this is absolutely true......

As I was checking the covers, I happened to see a tail sticking out from under my pillow!!! Lifted the pillow.....sure enough - there was a dead mouse. 

A present from one of the felines.
But which one?? Scratch, Scruffy, or Bosco? 

My only consolation is that it could have been worse. I have a friend in California who told me that one of her cats left a dead BIRD in her bed!

Ah, the joys of feline ownership.


This post is too long but I have an update (it's Tuesday afternoon). Another storm is raging as I write this.

The plumber stopped by about an hour ago. He surveyed the problem and said he has to buy some things from town before he can fix it. He'll return tomorrow morning.
The poor guy was upset because his elderly father died yesterday. That made me feel extremely bad. I told him not to come, but he said he'd rather work than sit around thinking.

A CRY IN THE WILDERNESS

Moon rising last night

Well, it's not exactly a cry. It's more like an incredibly loud uninhibited shriek of relentless frustration. A primal scream. My scream was so loud that birds fell out of trees two miles away and coyotes hightailed it to Kentucky.

I've been in a very foul mood for days and it ain't pretty.

That's impossible to believe, Jon. How could anyone as sweet, gentle, kind, easy-going, caring, humorous, incredibly likeable, and disarmingly charismatic as you be in a foul mood?

Aw, blow it out your *******!!!!

I've been without water for over a week and my patience is wearing thin. I've already endured 250 snowstorms this winter (slight   exaggeration) and the next one is expected by Thursday. It's so friggin' cold in this wilderness shack that I had to pad my knees to keep them from knocking together and if I run the heat constantly my utility bill will be $450,000 (slight exaggeration). My back still hurts so badly from falling on the ice that I can hardly sit, stand, or lay down (no exaggeration).

And yesterday I risked driving into town to get some desperately-needed groceries. When I got home I realized that I forgot to buy milk. There's no way in hell that I'm going to drive for half an hour on narrow, twisting, dangerous mountain roads all the way back to town for a gallon of milk.
There are plenty of cows in the meadow next to my property. I'll damn well get a bucket, climb over the fence, and start milking them.

 Did you ever try to get a plumber in a tiny rural hick town? I've been trying for over a week with no luck at all. One never answers the phone. The other never returns my messages. The third never showed up.

What is required to get their attention? Do I have to bribe them with drugs and sex? 
Hey, no need to panic. I'm living in Deliverance country......

This doesn't only happen here. I had the same frickin' problem when I lived in the small hick town in west Texas. When my furnace broke during the coldest winter in history, I couldn't get the repairman to come for two weeks. And he lived a mile away.

Mayberry RFD has a much slower-paced lifestyle than the rest of the world.

Why did you ever choose to live in the wilderness anyway, Jon? We warned you that it wouldn't be easy - especially now that you're getting older.

Hey - - one more wise crack about the "older" thing and I'm gonna personally come to your house and make you eat your social security check. I might be old, but I'm twenty years younger than you. Well, okay. Maybe ten.

When it comes to choosing between the two Rural Evils there's no contest. I'd rather be devoured by wolves in the Tennessee mountains than go back to the putrid bowels of Texas. I've always maintained that Texas is the worst place on earth and I've never changed my mind. My experiences there literally destroyed me - mentally, physically, and financially. I'll never look back.

This was my back yard in Texas

during one of the endless dust storms

(I'm still coughing dust out of my lungs)

Wicked winds, perpetual dust storms, endless droughts, relentless heat, scorpions in my boots, rattlesnakes in my back yard, nightmarish neighbors. Did I mention wicked winds?  
Not to mention those three unscrupulous realtors who crucified me for four long years and afterwards gleefully drank my blood.

This is the view from my window in Tennessee

Here in the Tennessee mountains I have peace - - something that I've been seeking my entire life.

 My only neighbors are cows and horses. And birds, owls, white-tail deer, coyotes, wolves, 'possums, squirrels. At night I hear gentle winds singing in tall trees. In the morning I watch the haunting, ever-changing mountain fog from my bedroom window.

Despite all the gross inconveniences and pioneer lifestyle - - I'LL GLADLY TAKE IT!

Nicely expressed. So, are you feeling better, Jon?

Hell, no. But I will after I have a few beers. And find a plumber.

My back yard

INSANITY IN AMARILLO

This is a continuation of my previous post.

Before I recount my Big Adventure in Arkansas, I've decided to tell about my final night in Texas.

I embarked on my journey at 3:00 in the afternoon - -  the 100 mile trek north to Amarillo. It was already late in the day. I was so exhausted from lack of sleep and an abundance of stress that I knew I wouldn't drive any farther than Amarillo. I'd stay there for the night.

The process of moving is extremely traumatic, but once you're free - on the road - there's an immense feeling of contentment. Absolutely no ties, no worries. The past is fading with every mile. The future is non-existent. Despite all I'd been through I was feeling strangely wonderful.

The Texas scenery changes as you approach Amarillo. It's more interesting, more diverse than those hellish flatlands from whence I came. As I passed the tiny town of Happy, I thought of my mother. She always liked the name of that obscure Texas town and said she wouldn't mind living there.

Today, Happy evoked a sudden twinge of sadness....

Old, familiar Amarillo was busy and bustling as usual. After passing a few motels that had "No Pets Allowed" signs, I finally found one that welcomed pets. Or at least tolerated them. I and my three caged cats checked in.

I was far more dehydrated than hungry. I bought drinks and some snacks from a nearby convenience store. My plan was to get lots of sleep and get up very early.

I had just about dozed off, when my sleep is interrupted by thuds, thumps, loud curses, and finally screams. I thought I was dreaming. In a groggy moment I realize it is alarmingly real.

The commotion is coming from the room directly next to mine. Banging! Thumps on the wall! Muffled cries. Agonizing screams.

As I sit frozen, absorbing the chaos, I can tell that two men are fighting - -  in the throes of an enormous struggle. One man sounds more rational. The other is either drunk, drugged, or completely crazy. Both have Mexican accents.

The crazy guy is getting increasingly violent and irrational. He eventually manages to get outside and is standing right by my door. In a loud psychotic voice he babbles on about birdies and rainbows. And pain.

"The birdies are around me! The birdies are here! Look at the rainbows! Oh, Jesus, my f---king legs hurt! They're burning! Help me! Help me!"

Holy shit! The guy is completely bonkers and he's right at my door!

I'm afraid to look out the window for fear that he'll see me. I don't know whether to call the front desk. Or the police.
I decide to bravely wait it out.

Soon both men are struggling near my door, and the crazy one is shouting "I'll kill you! I got a fu--king knife! I'll slice you up!"

I'm scared as hell - - but despite my genuine fear, I can actually see a smidgen of wry humor in the ordeal. This could only happen to me. Throughout my entire life I've been a magnet for bizarre situations.
 And all I wanted is a good nights sleep.....

The crazy guy suddenly starts whimpering and saying "I can't walk! I can't walk! I'm a fu-king cripple! My legs are burning!"

I breathe a big sigh of relief.
Thank God! If the dude can't walk, I'll have a better chance of escaping when he breaks into my room.

After the agonizing span of an hour (at least) the two guys go back inside their room. The ruckus continues but eventually lessens. The crazy guy becomes more subdued, then his antics stop completely.

My imagination is rampant. Did the other guy finally manage to sedate him? Or kill him??

I finally look out the window. The motel parking lot is nearly empty. Very few people were around to witness the bizarre event.

The rest of the night is peaceful but I take no chances. I prop a large armchair up against my double-locked door. I sleep fully dressed.

And I keep telling myself that some day I'll look back at this with humor.



You can't make these things up, folks. Truth is always stranger than fiction.

On to Arkansas.....and more bizarre adventures.....

Farewell, Amarillo

NEW BEGINNING

Here is my new back yard on a sunny November day

The forest begins on my property

 

This new blog is a continuation of my previous blog, Lone Star Concerto. I thought it best to separate Texas from Tennessee.



I did it. I finally made it from there to here. From the barren wastelands of west Texas to the lush wilds of the Tennessee mountains. I never thought it would happen. Truly. I was prepared to die in Texas. The enormous amount of troubles that I had there rendered my existence into a living death. My soul was extracted, my heart ripped out. And my will to live waned.

In all fairness, I can't blame Texas exclusively. Bad things happen everywhere. I can only speak from my own personal Texas experience. Trouble began happening to me the moment I got there and never stopped. The entire concept of the Lone Star State was in direct contrast to my nature, and - although I adapted to it - my faux cowboy existence was a sham.

Many details of my Texas years have been documented in Lone Star Concerto. I have no desire to rehash them now.

Every effort to leave Texas was thwarted and I had long given up hope.

And then.......

a small miracle suddenly occurred. After being on the market for four agonizing years, my Texas house finally sold. I only got a small fraction of what the place was worth. The three greedy, incompetent realtors received much more than their fair share. The buyers got one helluva deal. I lost money Big Time.

But I was finally free.......and the high price was worth it.

I chose to move to Tennessee because I wanted a complete change in my life. I have no illusions about paradise, perfection, or eternal happiness. But I have relatives here and some friends. I craved for new adventures in a lush, rural environment.

The process of moving always takes longer than expected, with unexpected detours along the way. When I initially made an offer on my new home, the owner was out of town. The realtor didn't get back to me with an answer for over two weeks. Life is slower in rural areas. Offer accepted!

The buying process went smoothly. I paid cash. Now I'm broke but relieved. And happy. I and my three cats had been staying with my cousin Nancy for over a month. She was an absolute saint and extremely helpful.
Anybody who could endure me and three cats for an entire month must be of the heavenly realm.

I moved into my new place on Thanksgiving Day. Due to an address mix up and the hectic holidays, my furniture won't be delivered until January. Since I can survive more easily without furniture than without the Internet, I bought a laptop to ease my withdrawal pangs. It's much more annoying to use than my desktop computer, but I'm getting used to it.

Spare us the verbosity, Jon, and cut to the chase. Where the hell are you exactly, and how do you like it?

Well, Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Texas anymore.

I was desperately craving peace and solitude in a deliciously rural environment, and.....well.....

Old Chinese Proverb:
Be careful what you wish for.......

I'm in the mountains, in the wilderness, in a remote area fifteen miles from town. Completely isolated, in the company of silence and at the mercy of Mother Nature.

Here's a view from the window, in the

room where I'm writing this. It's a bedroom

but I'm planning to make it my office.

 

I'm situated on two acres of a steep slope of a mountain. From my front windows I have a view of another nearby mist-covered mountain peak. My back yard is on the edge of a forest. There are hilly meadows nestled on either side of my property, inhabited by cows and horses. Birds and wildlife are abundant.

 

 

 

 At night I hear the screech of owls, the howl of coyotes and wild dogs, the sound of unknown creatures rustling through branches and dead leaves. Occasionally, I hear the crisp crack of hunter's rifles - reverberating sharply through the canyons.

 

There is wind here - but it's not like the brutal, foul, endlessly torturous winds of west Texas.

These are mountain winds - fresh, pure,

invigorating, blowing high through the treetops like a magical carillon. All the sounds of nature echo here, through canyons and branches of trees - resonating with the intricacy of a fugue improvised by Mother Nature.

My impressions are effusive but apt. I am more than impressed by these surroundings. I am astonished.

Icicles hanging from nearby cliffs

The photos are all from my cell phone
and are of poor resolution.


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