It Isn't Always Winter

 

              

Guadalupe Street Vignettes: The Tilers

The Tilers

They were living downstairs when I moved in above, two men with a variety of vehicles that seem to come and go.  I quickly discovered they were tile layers.  Their door was often open and it was hard not to peek inside as I walked past to the stairs.  Boxes of tile lined one wall; new boxes; partially used boxes; stacks of mismatched leftovers.  A trail of powdered grout and cement led from their curbside parking spot, across the sidewalk and into the apartment.  You couldn’t see deeper into the apartment than the first few feet.  They kept the blinds down.

Jeff warned me early on.

“I know you Canadians like to smile at people and be friendly but don’t talk to these guys.  You don’t need to know them and they don’t need to know you.”

“I’m from Maine, not Canada,” I reminded him in a now familiar and expected exchange concerning anything north of Amarillo being Canada.

“Same thing,” he said dryly with just a hint of a smile.  But this was serious business.

“You’re in a city now and these guys already creep out Emily and Jessica so just pay attention and keep to yourself and you’ll be fine.”

***

Those first few weeks the tilers were often home in the afternoons and evenings.  It was hard not to bump into them at the foot of the stairs.  They were both Hispanic, in their early fifties.  They conversed with eachother in Spanish.  I learned from Della, the property manager, one was named David.  He tried to be charming but in that way that makes your skin crawl and makes you double check your door lock.  Our studio apartments were at the far end of the complex and a high fence blocked views into the parking lot from the street save for the opening into the lot.  Strategically speaking, it was a vulnerable spot for a woman on her own. I was polite, not wanting to encourage and yet not wanting to be seen as “that bitch upstairs” by not interacting at all thus inviting disdain and maybe trouble.  

 The other man never spoke to me, just looked on as I came and went.  One side of his face was badly scarred as if by fire or perhaps he’d been dragged across tar and gravel. It was dramatic and gruesome the first time we were in close proximity. He was sullen and stepped around me and the bag of groceries I had stopped to reposition in my arm before climbing the stairs. I never lost the feeling that it was painful mask and there was great anger beneath it.

***

Even when their vehicle was not in the lot there always seemed to be someone downstairs.  People came and went, day and night.  Doors slamming.  Music.  Lots of women.  Partying.  Boisterous sex.  My internet connection went down.  After re-setting the modem several times, I gave up trying to get it to work and called the cable company.  The technician on the other end checked what he could but had no quick fix.  He put in a service order for me and said someone would be by between ten and noon tomorrow.  I went to bed, turning on the air unit’s fan to drown out the noise below.  A tv was blaring over it all.

***

I was up early, moving stuff around so the cable guy would be able to reach the connection point and modem easily.  People were stirring downstairs.  On my way back from getting the mail at the boxes, the tilers’ door opened and a handful of young people stumbled out of the apartment leaving the door open.  There was a plasma tv set up on boxes of tile. One of the girls looked at me and smiled smugly as I passed to the stairs.  I heard laughter behind me as I unlocked my door.

The technician arrived near noon. He checked the modem and looked at the cable coming through the wall.

“You’re not getting any juice at all.  I’ll go check the box outside.”  He tromped down the stairs and returned a few minutes later.

“I found the problem.  Your line has been disconnected,” he said. “Come down and have a look.” 

I followed him to the corner of the building where he pointed up to an innocuous gray box on the wall. He hoisted himself up on a water pipe and opened the door to the box.

“The cable has been pulled out and left hanging.”

“So it didn’t just come loose from the box?” I asked.

“No mam.  Someone pried the door open and unplugged you.  I’m guessing it was one of your neighbors and they used your line.  Then they unplugged it so it wouldn’t be connected to their place when you discovered your cable was out and called us in.” 

I stood there dumbstuck as he plugged the line back in and shut the box.

“I”ll put a lock on the box and that should keep this from happening again.”

As he was jumping down from the water pipe, the tilers’ door opened.  David looked at me and then at the cable guy.

“Hey,” he said.  “I want to get cable.  Can you hook me up?”  The tech told him he needed to call the office and set up an installation time.  David thanked him and went back inside.

***

Jeff looked coolly at me when I told him about the morning’s revelations.

“It was them,” he said matter of fact, referring to the tilers.  “Jessica and Emily certainly didn’t do it.  Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

“There’s nothing to take care of,” I said.  “It’s fixed and the cable guy put a lock on the box.  I can’t prove that they did it but it is quite a coincidence that there’s a new television and they just happen to need cable now.”    Jeff just looked at me.

“Like I said, I’ll take care of it.”

***

I was trying to transcribe Jeff’s sprawling scrawl into the poetry it was when he came home from an appointment at the VA.

“Uh, by the way.  I had a little visit with your neighbors last night.”  I stopped typing.

“What did you do?” I asked, feeling suddenly sick.

“I banged on their door around 1 am and got them out of bed.  I had my tattoos showing and my slippers on so they knew I didn’t give a shit about what might happen.”

“Oh, Jesus.”

“They’ve seen me around. And I kept it cool. It’s spooky when a crazy guy talks real quiet.  I told them I knew there was a lot of shit going on at this end of the lot.  I said I was personally looking after the girls they were living near and if they even looked sideways at you three I would fucking deal with it and they would never hear it coming.”

I didn’t know whether to hit him or hug him.

“Oh man, I wish you hadn’t done that,” I said.  “I’m the one that has to live above them, not you.”

The look he gave me was pure Kung Fu master.

“They are no longer your problem, grasshopper.”

                                                                    ***

Della stood by the landlord’s truck watching the boys hoist the big couch into the back.  The blinds were up in the downstairs apartment, flooding it with light.  It was completely empty.

“Did they move out?” I asked cautiously.

“Sort of,” she said. “They were behind on the rent.  Gary was getting ready to evict them but they took off.  We’re keeping the couch.  Everything else went in the dumpster. ” She smiled at me.

“It’s a nice couch.”

Guadalupe Street Vignettes: Mary

Sometimes out of the blue a random happening will set off a memory of someone I've met here in Austin.  One minute I'm watching the sparrows on the balcony railing and the next I'm remembering an interaction or a drama or some sweet small moment.  So in an attempt to collect these people I've started the Guadalupe Street Vignettes, short stories and essays that will give you a look at a few the people who have been populating my world.  Having grown up on the relative isolation of a farm in the country, to be living in small apartments in the city has been a test at times.  Maybe some day these stories will help me get back to the country and nights where only the crickets and tree frogs enliven the night. 

Guadalupe Street Vignettes:    Mary

She had a box of files in her arms when I first met her.

“Hi, I’m Mary,” she said. “I’m moving in.  Do you live here?”

I told her I did, at the far end of the parking lot.

She was a small woman; wiry, with bright eyes behind her black rimmed glasses.  She was youthful despite the graying of her thick dark hair at the temples.  Her face was lively and she kept smiling.

“I’m just moving in upstairs.  Is it nice here?”

“It’s pretty good,” I answered.  “It can get kind of wild sometimes but it’s mostly quiet.”  She nodded her head.

“That’s good.  I like quiet. Well I’d better get going.  My friends are helping me move.  See you around.”

Her apartment was across the yard from my friend Jeff’s place.  We all lived in efficiencies in the four small buildings.  Students.  Veterans. Deaf people. Drug dealers. Security guards.  All of us on low or fixed incomes.  Getting by.  Mary seemed just another face in the parking lot.

***

I heard the shouting as I neared Jeff’s end of the building, a woman yelling profane accusations in rapid fire and then a similar voice answering.  I knocked on Jeff’s door and let myself in.

“What’s going on up there?” I asked, motioning towards Mary’s place.

“Oh it’s just the crazy lady.  She does that all the time.  She’ll go on for hours.  I just turn the tv up and drown her out.  She’s psycho.”

“Her poor neighbors,” I muttered, thinking of how loud it must be living across the hall or in the apartment below if I could hear her even in Jeff’s place with the tv on.

***

Juan, who lived upstairs from Jeff, did handyman work on the property for the landlord.  He was a veteran in his late fifties, living on his payments from the VA and going to culinary arts school.  Once he had his degree he hoped to get a job working in a school cafeteria, steady work with the summers off.  We were chatting in the parking lot when Mary rode past on her yellow mountain bike. She didn’t have a car.  I smiled but she looked right through me and kept riding.  Juan snorted in disgust.

“You see that crazy bitch?  She started screaming at me while I was watering the plants last week.  She said I was always staring at her and wanting to get with her and looking in her windows.  I said ‘Lady, you live on the second floor.  What am I, up in the trees?’ and she started swearing and telling me to fuck off.  I didn’t do anything but every time she sees me now she starts coming at me.  If I see her coming I just get inside.  I don’t need that shit.  I hear her at night over there, yelling.  She’s crazy.  The girl in the apartment across from her is moving out.  Says she can’t take it living there.”

***

My apartment was one of two second-floor end units.  Emily lived across the landing.  She was lovely, a hip and groovy graphic design student.  We shared a view of the street, the oak tree and the dumpster.

I was reading with the window open when I heard singing, then a conversation approaching from the parking lot.

“Oh Ann, it must be so hard for you. I mean, I really understand.  It’s so hard walking on broken glass then walking around like you’re not bleeding.”

It was Mary, taking her white bag of garbage to the dumpster. No one was with her.  She wasn’t on the phone.  She hardly drew a breath between thoughts. She muttered a few things I couldn’t hear as she tossed the bag into the skip but then it continued as she started back down the lot.

“Yes, it is a lovely day, isn’t it?”  She laughed, high and fast.

“Oh Stephen,” she said brightly, “I found your dead friend.  Yes, he’s in the dumpster.”  And then she was out of earshot.

***

Sirens and the phone ringing woke me up in the dark.  It was Jeff.

“There might be a gas leak.  Get your clothes on incase the fire department clears us out.  I’ll call you back when I know what’s going on.”

Looking out the side window, I could see the flashing lights of the fire truck and an ambulance further down the lot.  Two squad cars were parked at an angle behind it, their lights flashing, too.  Colors bounced off the walls and the cars.  I pulled on some clothes and was about to go out the door when the phone rang again.

“Everything’s ok,” Jeff said.  I could hear Emily’s door open and I opened mine to find her in her pajamas looking bewildered.

“I’ll fill you in in a minute,” I said quietly, away from the receiver, then mouthed “Jeff” and pointed at the phone.  She nodded and waited.

“So what’s going on?” I asked.

“It was the crazy lady.  She started yelling that she could smell gas and was banging on doors.  I could hear her so I opened my door and there was a really strong gas smell so I called 911.  Everything was fine outside but when the firemen got up to her apartment they found she had all the burners on the stove going plus the oven.  Now the cops have got her in the ambulance and they’ll take her away again for a little while.”

“Again?” I asked.

“Oh yeah.  The cops are here pretty regularly for her.  She’ll be back in a few days.  So everything’s good. Go back to bed.”

I closed my phone and looked at Emily.

“It was Mary.  She turned on all the gas in her apartment and was screaming that she could smell gas.”

“Whoa,” Emily said.  “Ya know, I hear her talking to herself and she yelled at me once when I was getting my mail.”  I told her about Juan’s experience and what I had overheard at the dumpster.  We both gave a shiver and said goodnight.

***

“The crazy lady was here this afternoon,” Jeff said as I walked in.

“What did she want?”I asked, handing him a slice of pizza and a napkin which he dropped.

“She knocked on my door to thank me for calling the fire department.  She said she was really scared about the gas smell.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said ‘Well ma’m, smelling gas means something is wrong so we had to take it seriously and call the fire department.’  She agreed and said it was a good idea.  I waited for her to go but she just stood in the doorway.  Then she said, ‘I’m feeling a little anxious about going back upstairs.’  I said it was a nice day and maybe she should enjoy the sunshine outside.  She looked at me and said, ‘Oh, you have cable.  I don’t have cable.  Maybe I could come in watch tv with you for a while.”

“And what did you say to that?” I asked, handing him another slice of pizza.

“I told her that probably wasn’t a good idea.  She asked why and I said ‘well, ma’m, you’re a single lady and I’m a single man.  It just wouldn’t be right to be alone together.  You could accuse me of all sorts of things and I don’t want to put either of us in that situation.’  She nodded.  Said she understood but then said she really liked that show that was on right now. I kind of nodded my head and said I bet they have cable at the state hospital.  She said ‘Yeah, they do.’  Finally she left.”

“Jeffrey, you actually said that to her?” I exclaimed.  He smiled at me over his third piece of pizza.

“You’re as crazy as she is.”

***

Several months later, my fiancé moved in with me.  He would go outside to have a cigarette so I clued him in about Mary and pointed her out from a distance. I made him promise to get out of sight if he saw her coming.

When I got home from work one night he had a story to tell me.

“The weirdest thing happened.  I had popped down to Jeff’s to borrow the bike and was adjusting the seat inside then there was a knock on the door. It was that Mary lady.  I had only been there for thirty seconds so she must have seen me go in and came right down. She thought I had moved in and she wanted to welcome me to the neighborhood by handing me a cold can of Guinness.  She said it was left over from a party she had had.”   My heart began to race.

“You didn’t drink it, did you?”

“No.  I put it in the fridge to show you.”

“Please don’t drink it, babe.”  Asking an Englishman not to drink a cold Guinness was asking a considerable amount of restraint.

“I know it’s an unopened can but let’s not tempt fate.”

I don’t know why but we didn’t immediately throw the can away.  It stayed in the back of the fridge until we cleaned out the apartment to move. 

Every time we pass the old parking lot entrance, we automatically look in.  Once there was a squad car in a familiar spot.

Adventures of Bear & Wren: Luckenbach

It's a dangerous thing to have a road atlas in the car.  We had intended to go to Kerrville, home of the internationally known Kerrville Folk Festival, an 18-day event for singers, songwriters and music lovers held every May at Quiet Valley Ranch.  http://www.kerrville-music.com/about_festivals.html

A city that hosts such a famous festival was bound to have something to see in the off season.  And in fact, we did eventually make it to Kerrville via a highly circuitous route that had us meandering down tiny roads, stumbling upon hidden treasures, and breathing the happy, clean air of the hill country.  But as we looked at the map for our next side road, my eye wandered to the word Luckenbach and our course was temporarily sidetracked. Luckenbach, Texas.  Oh, yes.  If you have heard of Waylon Jennings, then you've heard of Luckenbach.  And if you don't know Waylon then here he is with the song that brought Luckenbach to the American public       http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B4oISfIWUb0

 We were headed northwest along Ranch Road 1376 when Jamie saw the sign for Luckenbach Town Loop. A quick left turn onto a dirt road and there we were with absolutely no idea where we were.  Town consisted of a couple buildings, a couple of trucks and a couple of bikers.  We parked up beside an old oak tree with a historic marker near it and had a look around. We could hear some music coming from the once upon a time post office and a few people who looked like they belonged there were milling around the largest building which turned out to be a dance hall and restaurant.  Behind the post office was a stage and rustic bathrooms.  That's pretty much it for a cursory glance but a closer look revealed the little gem underneath.  We stepped inside the old post office to discover it filled to the rafters with memorabilia and leftovers from days at the turn of the century. It's also a giftshop at one end and a bar/music venue at the back.  Now that's multi-use of a former government building!  The fella minding the store welcomed us in and soon the story of Luckenbach began to unfold.

The little town was established as a Trading Post in 1849.  The Post Office/General Store/Beer Joint was then opened in 1886 by August Engel, an itinerant preacher from Germany.  It was his daughter Minna who named the town, chosing to honor her fiance, Albert Luckenbach.  Albert went on to found another town not far away.  He named it after himself...Albert.  Luckenbach grew, serving pioneer farmers and Comanche Indians alike.  A steam powered cotton gin was established in 1879 and ran until 1929.  The community had a consolidated school and a blacksmith shop. There was even a local legend, one Jacob Brodbeck, who is evidently documented to have flown a heavier-than-air craft pwered by clock-like springs rather than an internal combustion engine decades before the Wright Brothers. Luckenbach remained in the hands of the Engel family until 1970 when Benno Engel retired as postmaster and put an ad in the local paper:  "TOWN FOR SALE-lock, stock and dancehall."  It was at that point a whole new cast of characters took ahold of the town and set it on its way into the annals of pop culture.

Luckenbach was purchased by a trio of larger than life Texans led by John Russel "Hondo" Crouch.  Hondo was an All-American swimmer at the University of Texas who graduated in 1941 with a degree in physical education.  After a stint in the Air Corps as a navigator, he settled down to raise livestock and coach swimming. From 1963 to 1975, under the pen name Peter Cedarstacker, Crouch wrote about 600 "Cedar Creek Clippings" for the Comfort News. Through his characters from the mythical town of Cedar Creek he satirized politics, government, ecology, deer hunters, social life, and everyday country problems and celebrations. He was married for thirty years to Helen Ruth (Shatzie) Stieler, daughter of the 1945 "Goat King of the World," Adolf Stieler of Comfort., TX.

Guich Koock was a sixth-generation Texan, his mother was Mary Faulk, sister of the famously blacklisted radio entertainer John Henry Faulk. He studied history and English in college, and for his Master’s thesis at Texas A&M University, he interviewed children of former slaves in east Texas to compile a history.
Guich traveled back and forth between Texas and California, restoring old buildings and opening restaurants in Fredericksburg when he wasn’t playing a role in some movie or TV show. He had parts in movies such as Piranha (1978) North Dallas Forty (1979), American Ninja (1985), Square Dance (1987, with Wynona Ryder, Jason Robards and Rob Lowe), Substitute Wife (1994, with Farrah Fawcett), and Texas Justice (1995, with Heather Locklear). He also played roles in TV shows such as Laverne and Shirley, Carter Country (where he played Deputy Harley Puckett in the late 70s), Lewis and Clark, (with Gabe Kaplan as the owners of a country-western music club) and She’s the Sheriff (once again as a deputy) in the late ‘80s. In his spare time, he was a multiple-appearance guest on Good Morning America, The Tonight Show and the Merv Griffin Show; he also co-hosted the LA Sunday Show, as well as the Toni Tennille Show. In 2006, he was hired as host of the new TV program called Wide World of Horses.

Hondo and Guich, along with friend Kathy Morgan bought the town for $30,000 and then the fun began.  Hondo pronounced himself Mayor and became the "Clown Prince of Luckenbach." He appointed Marge Mueller, great-great grand daughter of of August Engel, Minna Engel Luckenbach's brother, as sheriff because of small incident that happened at the bar. One time Marge reprimanded another customer, “We don’t need that kind of language here! Get on outa here!” The guy actually left. So Hondo, who gave titles to everyone said, “Marge, I’d like for you to be my Sheriff.”  Guich was Minister of Foreign Affairs and Ray Petsch was named Minister of Agriculture since he took eggs to Austin to sell. Kathy helped to set up an annual schedule of events and soon Luckenbach was hosting "Hug Ins", a Luckenbach World's Fair, Ladies State Chili Bust, the Mud Dauber Festival and daily seesions of song-picking, domino playing and beer drinking.  Hondo's business cards read IMAGINEER.  He was a "mirthquake and a legend in his own mind."

In 1973, Texas country-rocker Jerry Jeff Walker came to Luckenbach to record and album.  Jerry Jeff and his Lost Gonzo Band sat in the saloon writing during the day then stacked hay bales for sound baffles in the dance hall and recoreded "Viva Terlingua."  The album went gold and news got out about Luckenbach. Four years later, Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson had a big hit with "Luckenback Texas (Back to the Basics)" and soon the world was finding its way to the bar room door.  Hondo passed away in 1976, the year before the song became a hit.  In the Nineties, Luckenbach became something of cottage industry, trademarking the name.  For several years, Willie Nelson returned to hold his 4th of July picnic with a few thousand of his friends.  Sheriff Marge passed away in 2004 but Luckenbach descendants continue to arise.  There's Judge Mike Haley, Virgil the Store Guy, and Colonel Jody Haggard of the Luckenbach Navy.  The dance hall is still hopping on the weekends and a guitar in the bar that anyone is welcome to pick up and play. You can even rent the setting for weddings and private parties.  What a place.

As we chatted with whom I'm guessing is Virgil the Store Guy, someone in the bar was playing the guitar and singing the theme song to The Dukes of  Hazzard tv show.  The song had been sung by Waylon Jennings and this singer did a darn good cover.  We bought a "God Bless Johnny Cash" bumper sticker for our friend Captain Hotknives back in Yorkshire and a couple of guitar picks.  I even went the extra mile and bought myself a baseball cap with the Luckenbach emblem on the front.  We thanked our amiable host and went back outside to snap a few shots.

                          

From the license plates covering the building walls to the pickles on a stick at the snack bar, it's clear that people love Luckenbach because it loves them back. As it was put by one chronicler, "these days Luckenbach Texas is, to paraphrase John Steinbeck, a state of mind--a Texas state of mind, where you can kick back, relax and get away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life--like a step back in time."  It sure is and my most lasting memory of Luckenbach will be something I witnessed just as we were about to leave.

As I was photographing the ATM machine, two older men came out the side door of the bar. The first guy was was in jeans and a t-shirt but the second guy was dressed for the west.  He had on jeans and shiny cowboy boots, a red, long-sleeve shirt with pearl buttons and a bolo tie, a fine looking ten gallon hat and he sported a thick, droopy mustache that was surely the envy of any man he met.  In short, he was fantastic to behold, like a red-headed Sam Elliot, drawl and all. They continued their conversation oblivious to me:

Regular Guy:  Hey, the last time I saw you, you were in a suit.  I'm just checking to see if there's a ring on your hand.

Cowboy Guy (in movie-perfect Texas drawl):No, no.  I was just a spectator.

Regular Guy:  Well, you were looking pretty dressed up.  I was just a-wondering.

Cowboy Guy: Well, I've only got me one suit.  I see people get married in it and I see people get barried (buried) in it.

I had all I could do not to burst out laughing it was just so perfect, one of those moments of grace where you are in the right place at the right time.  I should have asked the gents for a photo and let them know how much their conversation had tickled me but I was too shy and didn't want to ruin the moment.  I walked away chuckling, happy to have Jamie to share the story with. As we drove off, I couldn't help but feel that something really nice had happened back there.  As the motto goes, Everybody's Somebody in Luckenbach.

 If you would like to know more about Luckenbach, check out these websites.  Better yet, go see it yourself!
http://www.luckenbachtexas.com/
http://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/fcr52
http://www.hillcountrymagazine.com/issues/fall-2009/168/guich-koock/
http://www.luckenbachtexas.com/html/SheriffMarge.html

The Busted Book of Baby Names

One of the things I love most about my work for Jeff's crime papers is the endless entertainment that comes from the creative, clever and sometimes downright confusing names of various folks who have gotten themselves in trouble with the police.  Whether it's the new way of spelling an old name, a great name from another language, or the question of what drugs their parents were on when it came time to name the baby, the following list is a tribute to the evolution of the English language, at least in Central Texas.  And keep in mind, this info is straight from police files.

What's in a name???

Just Plain Great Sounding
Boris Bernard Boyce
Destiny Rambo
Montreal Diggs
Luster Williams
Early Ross
Venson Wynerd White
Jamica Joe Martinez
Duggy Fresh Daniels
Gazell Hardwell
Stormy Lee Aguilar
Wigberto Ponce
Britania Quania Jackson
Jerusalem Lee Roslon
Neapolian  Smith
Maximino Florencio
Tommy Lee Germany
Yentl Brooks
Precious Hart
Sagittarius Lipscomb   (though what if the new zodia month change puts him in a new sign?!)
Janarius Hall
Precious Palm
Juniper Jones   (wanted for forgery so maybe that's not even her real real name!)
Eastmanette
Rocky Valley
Jhonny Guatemala   (yes...Jhonny)
Parfait Kipasa
Joe Bob Jones
Guadalupe Caballero
Historical...Kind Of
Sir Robert Louis Drake
Victor Hugo Delagarza   
Marc Antony Hernandez

How Do You Say That?
Dwanette Pettis
Teowanka Woodridge
Quwonnieshia Renne Edmond
Shemetrick Lashawn Powell
Lakevious Williams
Mackquiesha Jones
Briontea Edwards
Isc Kylan Fitzgerald
Brunice Grundy
Juancheus Shaw
Shwannia Searcy
Gwendolyn Dafephine Moore

How Do You Spell That?
Johndrick Harris
Krasharon Oliver
Leantrinette Williams
Keithran Vaughn
Emeal Jones
Grinthious Deonte Brown
Gontorwon Wordell Turner
Phabian Hampton
Aljanon Laray Smith
Ashley Dazzerae Amoison
Khrystan Washington
Roterrius Pierier Sidney
Tiffonie Webb
Kimburley Roddy
Taiwanna Anthony

This Did Make Me Giggle a Bit For All Sorts of Reasons
Chesa Starlette Moss
Patreece Chevette Rhone     (do you suppose she was conceived in a Chevy Chevette?)
Lazandrea B.C Dixon
Shamea Aerial Spencer
Annisthasia Bowie
Kimothy Anthony Taylor
Chukedrick Davone Tarver
Bennie Franklin Taylor
Franjessica Williams
Shmyron Cooper
Tiara Lee Bownam
Tafflon Quiche Hampton

What???
Drezvillant Demonia Washington
Tabrodrick Deshaun Washington     (siblings....burglary!)
Dwaylan Deshay Greer
Darreyel Greer
Meltron
Deltron
Latronya
Christopher Antartarik Young
Elon Phaezwilliam Smith
Spandirallia Cherita Smith
Quintrecia Antoinsha Edwards

How Many Ways Can You Spell Antoine?
Antwaunn
Antwan
Antawon
Antjuan

And my all-time favorite of the past three months

Julio Cesar Garza


Our next installment from the Mugly Archives will feature people whose names fit the crime and a few famous coincidences, though Tom DeLay is really, really Tom DeLay!

Big loves from Bat City!

Adventures of Bear & Wren: Abilene

One of the things I like about Texas is that there are so many cities and towns that have managed to work their way into the common psyche outside the state, and even outside of the country. Say the word Texas to just about anyone in Great Britain and they think of Dallas. Mention Texas to a musician and they think of Austin.  Mention Texas and hurricanes and up pops Galveston and Corpus Christi.  And if you grew up in a house that liked country music in the 70s and 80s, you know the words Abilene and Luckenbach.  I'll save Willie, Waylon and the boys for another blog because last week Jamie said, "We need another adventure."  We looked at the gazetteer over and over but nothing seemed to really speak to us as we sat there in Whataburger having a late lunch.  But a few days later the destination became clear while I was pulling mugshots.

"Let's go to Abilene."

"What's there?" Jamie asked from the other room.

"I don't know, " I replied, "but someone wrote a song about it so let's go."

Truth was, I only knew the first two bars of the tune and they went  "Abilene.  Abilene...."  But expeditions have been launched on less and we had the precious commodity of Christmas money from my folks and no job responsibilities.  The only catch was that Abilene is a four hour drive from Austin.  As we still haven't put Jamie through the rigors of getting his license here, it would mean a long, long day of driving for me and just a cursory glance at our destination.  We decided to bite the bullet and make it an overnighter.

Because we wanted to make this a bit of an event, we agreed that we would try to find a b&b rather than a standard hotel.  We never got to have a honeymoon. Our wedding night was spent in Jeff's hovel of an apartment while my parents enjoyed our clean diggs upstairs so we thought maybe we could justify spending the money staying some place nice.  The problem was, every place we contacted was full up.  We were debating postponing the trip when fortune smiled upon us as she so often does.  One kind B&B owner suggested we try phoning a place called The Refuge at Wit's End.  It had not come up in any of our internet searches for lodgings but when we typed it into Google, up came a Facebook page and a travel blog post.  We were immediately enchanted and by the next day had a reservation for a little stone cottage on Riverside Boulevard.  Best of all, it was only 75 bucks. 

The name of the cottage seemed terribly fitting for we were nearly at Wit's End ourselves.  It had been party central at our boisterous neighbors' place during the nights leading up to New Year's day meaning we had not slept well in ages.  Then, we came home from errands on the 2nd to find a squirrel had gnawed its way through the sheetrock in the laundry alcove leaving a hole near the ceiling the size of a tennis ball.  Fortunately, the bugger was not waiting for us when I opened the bi-fold doors.  We taped up the hole and put a call in to the landlord.  Along with having to fix the hole on the apartment side of the wall, poor Alejandro the contractor was going to have to go up through an access spot in one of our closets to repair the outer inside wall.  Also, the facia board on the gable end that had rotted away would have to be replaced to keep the steady stream of birds, bugs and buggers out. Oh what a mess!  We cleaned off shelves, stuffed musical instruments and art supplies in corners. And then the night before Alejandro was to arrive, the squirrel got smart, chewing beyond the taped area, enlarging his handiwork.  Still, lucky for us he didn't come through into the room. We pushed a big frame against the wall, stacked paint cans to keep it from being pushed over, and got the heck out of town early Friday morning. 

(Here's a link to our photo album of the trip on Facebook. I'll just include a few extras here in the blog    http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2101574&id=1143323140&l=670526b2a0)

Breakfast was a stop in Lampasas at the Country Kitchen restaurant where the sign outside announced it was Catfish Friday.  When we walked in, the local sheriff, a man of impressive proportions, was just finishing a story much to the delight of his listeners.  We slipped into a table and enjoyed the ambiance.  Our waitress arrived in her cowgirl boots, short denim skirt with sparkly belt and a rhinestone encrusted top that featured a pair of angel wings on the back.  The walls were covered with an assortment of faded photos of famous Texas outlaws, ancient firearms, farm equipment and old car license plates.  Jamie looked at me and said quietly, "Bloody hell, Wren, I'm in Texas!"  Two plates of eggs, hashbrowns, bacon and toast and we were back on our way.

Another great thing about Texas is its roads.  Once you are away from the major cities, the driving is fantastic.  The state is huge and the roads are well kept.  I don't know how to fully explain what a pleasure it is travel here by car.  (We'll discuss city driving later...not fun!)   For the most part, the roads have paved shoulders that are a lane wide.  It is an unwritten rule that if someone wants to pass you from behind, you move into the break down lane to let them by.  It can be a little disconcerting to be driving 60 mph on the shoulder while you are being overtaken by someone doing 70 in the driving lane who is being overtaken by someone doing 80 in the passing lane.  Jamie's going to have to get used to that one. 

But those big wide shoulders mean you can turn around fast if you zoom past something you want to get a second look at.  We do that a lot because out of nowhere you can come across a giant elk made of junk metal or maybe a Thanksgiving turkey made from a big round bale of hay and part of an old windmill for the tail, or perhaps zebras, like the ones we found grazing by an old pullman car in the tiny hamlet of Zephyr as we zoomed up 183.  We've seen camels and emus, even a bison and an albino elk, but zebras were a new find, much to our delight.   Central Texas has a number of wild game ranches and parks.  Our roadside zebras belonged to one such place.  We did two quick turn-arounds and Jamie was out of the car with the cameras blazing.  Fantastic!

The miles clicked by as we headed northwest through Early, Rising Star, Cross Plains, Potosi and into the outskirts of Abilene.  It's beautiful country, large spreads of ranch land and fallow fields of gold.  Many of the ranches feature goats and sheep.  We had come across signs for "show goats" before which quickly got us laughing, picturing goats in spangles and top hats headlining in Vegas, so you can imagine the giggles when I spied the ranch sign advertising "club lambs."  Made sense.  The club lambs go out on a Friday night to see the show goats and do a little partying. Brilliant.  We were in tears.  Texas is so often very funny without even trying.  In truth, the goats and lambs become livestock projects with local 4-H and Future Farmers of America groups.  It's serious business, as anyone who has raised an animal for show and sale will tell you...but it never ceases to make us chuckle.

We came into Abilene from the southeast, past the airport and countless truck, tire and equipment businesses.  I had hastily written down the directions to Wit's End which meant a rather circuitous ride through varied economic neighborhoods before we found The Refuge.  Our host, Bobby Deegan, and Raz the Black Lab, met us in the drive.  Bobby had called earlier in the morning to let us know that the heater in the cottage was acting up but a workman was on the way to look at it.  By the time we arrived, he had come and gone but was coming back again because it still wasn't working.  We assured Bobby we were of hardy northern stock and would be quite fine if the heater couldn't be coaxed to warm things up.  We dropped off our pack and headed into town to catch a couple of museums before they closed.

It was 3:30 on a Friday afternoon and downtown was empty.  In fact, everywhere was empty. I had been wondering if we would be able to find parking but we were the only car on the street.  We parked outside the National Center for Children's Illustrated Literature and stepped into the amazing world of Brian Selznick  http://nccil.org/experience/artists/Selznick/index.htm

Outside the main gallery are large format photographs of children's book illustrators, people whose pictures you don't often see at the back of a storybook.  I recognized Mo Willems, Ashley Bryan, David Weisner, William Joyce.  Inside the gallery were original sketches and paintings from eight or more books that Brian Selznick has done.  The work was amazing and as we were the only visitors in the building we had it all to ourselves.  A copy of each book featured  was on hand at the beginning of its exhibit area allowing you to see the finished work in print and get a feel for its place in the story.  It was a glorious exhibit. The artist's ability with just a pencil was truly magical. We had a peek in the gift shop/bookstore then walked further down North 1st street to The Grace.

The Grace Museum  http://www.thegracemuseum.org/  was formerly a rather grand hotel.  High ceilings, marble floors, a ballroom or two.  It's lovely in that turn of the century way with deep crown moulding and flourishes.  The hotel is now home to several art galleries, a children's museum and a history museum.  Admission for all this is only $6.00 for adults.  Chatting with the docent in the lobby who was taking down the beautiful Christmas three, we learned that Abilene is basically a quiet, small city. 

" We have our 10 minute traffic jam and that's about it.  We'll get a few visitors over the weekend but mostly it's pretty dead in town."

Hopefully it was the time of year that made things quiet and not the signs of a city in decline.  Again, we had the museum nearly to ourselves.  We wandered through the galleries, played in the Children's Museum and marvelled at the 'Tools for Modern Living" exhibit in the history museum which featured things like early washing machines, toasters, adding machines and photography equipment.  In the middle of it stood a young gal checking movie times on her iPhone.  It was a telling juxtaposition.

We left The Grace just at closing, hungry and with no idea where to eat.  Thus began another impromptu tour of Abilene, up one quiet street and down another.  Grain elevators, abandonned warehouses and boarded up buildings  are in abundance in the city, reminders of the past.  Trains regularly rolled through town while we were there but they didn't seem to stop. Abilene is, perhaps, merely on the way to some place else these days.  We did find the pie-making facility for Mrs. Baird's Bakery, a Texas company that makes breads and snack foods, at one end of town and the Mrs. Baird's Bakery outlet at the other end of town but sadly both were closed for the day.  Mrs. Baird's apple pie...mmmmm.

We had our choice of fast food and a few hole in the wall spots but nothing was really appealing to us.  As night descended, it was clear that we had missed a portion of town where eateries and shops resided but I was hesitant to drive too far in directions unknown being tired and unsure of just how to get back to Wit's End.  Jamie started chuckling and said we could go to the Touch of Class Nightclub we had just passed.  He said we shouldn't let the peeling paint, the faded sign and the old homeless guy with his bin bags out front put us off it.  It was with a bit of hysterical relief that we saw a glittery new-looking  Chinese restaurant just uphead with a banner proclaiming "Voted Best Oriental Food in Abilene".  Szechuan it was and soon we were up to ears in egg rolls and Tsing Tao, though it was touch and go as we pulled into the parking lot.

Jamie said, "I thought that was a horse standing there on the grass but it's just a man."

I chalked it up to low blood sugar.

Full of crispy duck and crab rangoon, we found our way back to Wit's End, a very chilly Wit's End.  Raz greeted us at the gate and we should have just brought him inside with us because his breath was ten times warmer that the feeble little breeze that was coming out of the heater.  Happily, the bed had a thick down comforter and a faux fur throw.  We spent a little time exploring the tiny place, examining the art on the walls and the decorations through out.  It is a little treasure house of color and humor, a true refuge.  We slipped off to sleep warm, cozy and happy.

Morning brought with it a cold front that arrived overnight.  The mexican terracotta tiles were chilly under foot.  Using the loo was a teeth chattering experience and we giggled from the cold, hopping back under the duvet until we absolutely had to get up.  A bath was out of the question, despite the presence of a tiny space heater.  The cold mass of the cast iron tub would have taken all the heat out of the hottest water.  Jamie made coffee and we breakfasted on leftover Chinese and homemade protein bars.  Fortified, we spent a bit more time exploring the cottage and taking photos.  Then we paid our hostess, Cynthia, and were off back into town in search of Frontier Texas.

We had seen the tourist information center the previous afternoon, having stopped to take photos of the wonderful statute just outside that depicts a scene from the book Santa Calls by William Joyce.  It sits just across the street from the Children's Illustrated Lit museum. We went back hoping to get direction to the frontier museum and stood dumbstruck at the locked door.  The only information we got was that Tourist Information in Abilene is not open on the weekends!  Fortunately,  the museum was just half a mile down the street.  And what a museum it is.

Frontier Texas!  http://www.frontiertexas.com/  combines  interactive exhibits, cool technology, extensive primary source materials and personal narrative to lead the visitor through life on the frontier.  Utilizing the life stories of eight people who helped shape the American West in their own way,  history becomes an exciting adventure and not just dates on a placard.  Actor portrayals presented through innovative technology make every turn in the museum exciting.  As had been the case in the other museums, there were only a few of us in the building so we had time to really look at displays and listen to the characters we met.  A small theatre with a 360 degree film screen treats you to a fascinating and fast moving experience of life on the frontier.  We came out of the last exhibit blown away by just how good the museum was.  There is a definite flow to the museum and I imagine that if it was full of school groups, the place could be quite loud and congested so try to visit outside of school hours would be my suggestion.  Also, when you first enter the lobby, stop at the Abilene Visitors kiosk, an electronic unit that is mounted on the wall.  It offers tourist info on Abilene and you can print off coupons for saving on admission to all the attractions in Abilene, including Frontier Texas.  We discovered this when Jamie, who can't resist anything with buttons to push,  started having a go with the machine.  You will save two dollars off per admission for up to six people.

We walked around the neighborhood of the museum, photographing the remnant buildings from years past, then began our trip home.  Stopping just outside town for gas and lottery tickets, we left Abilene feeling very glad we had come.  After three years in Austin, Abilene felt like a place where real Texans lived.  It struck us as a place where people worked hard with their bodies and the land.  It is not a city of luxury and frivolity and yet it has no shortage of museums and cultural events.   In 1982, Abilene became the first city in Texas to create a downtown reinvestment zone. It is home to seven colleges. In short, it's worth the drive!

We decided to take a different route for part of the journey home and set off east on the access road along Highway 20.  Knowing we had a couple of postcards to mail, we stopped in the town of Baird, yet another of those places where time seems to have stood still or simply up and left.  It was rural America in the early 70s.  A grain depot by the railroad tracks.  Signs and store fronts from businesses long since gone.  Dusty antique shops with dead wasps in the window and great Aunt Ethel's cut glass parfait glasses lined up for $4.00 each.  Jamie has only to say hello and anyone in hearing distance latches on to his accent.  Soon the stories are flowing and an hour later we are stepping out the door laughing and bidding happy farewells.  England loves Texans and Texans love a British accent.  For all the times that we are cut off, pushed about or ignored in Austin, a stop in a small Texas town never fails to produce kind people who stay in our memories.

By the time we reached Cisco, our right hand turn that would take us south to home, we were getting a bit peckish.  We cruised down the main street, hoping to find a little restaurant for some BBQ or home cooking but to no avail.  As we both needed a bathroom break, we pulled into the local grocery store for relief and a snack to get us back to Early where we had seen plenty of restaurants the day before.  Clutching our chocolate milk, acai juice and a bag of potato chips, as we stood in line at the cash register I pointed out the copies of The Star and The Enquirer as we had been talking about British and US tabloid papers earlier.  As I started to say something to Jamie, the young cashier interrupted, finishing my sentence by asking if these were papers I liked to make fun of.

I said, "No, no.  I was pointing out that this is our equivalent of the papers he has in England."

"You're both from Britain?" she asked, almost incredulous, her cheeks going from pale pink to scarlet.

"No, just me." Jamie said pleasantly but that evidently was enough to render her mute, as she couldn't manage to say another word.  She just got redder and redder.  The gal bagging simply stared at us.  We managed to get our change and thanked them both. The cashier could barely look at us by this point, sort of wiggling away in that way you do when you've met someone so incredibly cool and you just want to jump around and hoot in excitement the minute they are out of earshot.  Needless to say, I think January 8th, 2011 will forever be the day the Englishman stopped at  Brookshire's in Cisco, Texas. 

 We chuckled all the way to Rising Star but there we met a chilling sight that left us cold. All at once, the trees on the opposite side of the road were full of vultures. Close to a hundred of the big, black birds sat hunched on branches, their backs to the road, with a few still circling overhead.  At first it didn't seem real. 

I turned around at the first side road I found, one which eerily enough had a sign for the Rising Star Cemetery, and rolled to a stop alongside the bird-infested trees.  The vultures were stone quiet.  A few flapped their wings as they settled into position.  Jamie wondered if perhaps there was something dead further in the trees but with everyone being so still, that seemed odd.  Given as it was near dusk, it seemed more likely that the birds were simply roosted up for the night.  We checked online when we got home and sure enough, while vultures are fairly solitary during the day, they do roost in large groups at night.  I drove past after Jamie snapped some photos, turned around and slowed again for one more look.  A man was sitting on his small porch watching the birds while a black puppy danced about in the yard.  The whole scene was incredibly creepy.  I gave the man a slight nod as we passed.  He returned the gesture then turned his gaze back to the birds as we drifted away. 

Even as we reached Early and the bright signs for hotels and restaurants, we were still a bit subdued by the strange sight back up the road.  But an empty stomach knows no bounds and we were anxious to find Underwoods, a BBQ place we had seen advertised on a big, hokey billboard outside of town.  Travelling down a strip far busier than we had seen in all of Abilene, we kept a fierce look out for the big fella in the cowboy hat waving the dinner bell.  As we passed a place called Humphrey Pete's, Jamie read the sign and started laughing.

"That place says it's pig lickin' good, Wren."  I wasn't sure just how or what constituted pig lickin' good.  Pulling in at Underwood's, their sign said "Best eatin' in town."  I told Jamie he was going to have to make the tough choice--pig lickin' good or best eatin' in town.  He chose best eatin' and in we went to a cafeteria style bbq place that has been in business since 1946.  The decor was classic Western family with guns on the walls and high chairs for wailing toddlers, old carpet on the floor and big booths and tables with plenty of room for burgeoning bellies. Jamie had bbq steak with mashed potato, pink potato salad, hot rolls and apple cobbler.  I had ribs with green beans, cole slaw and cobbler.  There were atleast 10 other sides you could have if you wanted, two other cobblers, refills on your soda or sweet tea and all the coffee you could drink.  Young waitresses went around with carts asking if you wanted drink refills or whipped creme or hot rolls.  The food was down home and pretty good eatin' but by far the best part of the meal was listening to two of the high school age waitresses while they cleared the table behind us.

"I had this guy who was stalking me."

             "Oh my god, that is so cool. I've always wanted a stalker."

"Yeah, he used to follow me home and try to talk to me."

               "You are so lucky."

"Yeah, he gave me a rose once."

              "Oh my god, that is so sweet."

"Yeah.  It was Valentine's Day."

              "I would love a stalker."

"He was in my math class.  I think his name was Pedro."

             "Wow."

"He was kind of creepy though."

              "Oh, I love creepy guys."

"Yeah, but he wasn't attractive."

              "Oh, I don't like unattractive creepy guys...."


Full to the brim and smiling, we set off for the last hundred miles home.  In Lampasas, the livestock auction we had caught a glimpse of Friday morning was still going on.  A massive pick up pulled up beside us at a stop light and an equally massive German Shepherd in the back was barking at every vehicle in sight. He was a dog in a truck on a Saturday night and he was loving it.

Back home, we were relieved to find Alejandro had patched up the holes, the squirrel was quiet and the neighbors were off getting drunk somewhere else.  We climbed into bed as the heavens opened up. 

God bless Texas and thank you,  Abilene.  We won nine dollars on the lottery!