Texas On Our Minds

Hot Springs – New Cowhide Campground, AR

No one big story today. But lot of little ones.

Riding? Beautiful. Still rolling. Mountain-y vistas. Bucolic scenes. The only small complaint would be the three sections of gravel we encountered as we rode down Old Caddo Gap Road. But even those were nothing like Iowa gravel. No baby heads. No rowcrops. Not straight. Turns out that gravel roads through the forest are MUCH different than gravel through the corn belt. 

Texas on my mind. 

Lots of signs that we are approaching the Lone Star State. 

First, Old Dallas Road. You just don’t see Old Dallas Roads too often in Minnesota. I mean, I guess you could call I-35 Dallas Road. But who does that? After all, it’s a thousand miles on the interstate . . . Not exactly right around the corner.

And then our first cacti siting. 

Then there was Jerry. 

We met him outside the grocery store in Glenwood. Probably 70. With a well-manicured moustache, a cowboy hat and well-worn cowboy boots. Jerry was pretty impressed that we had biked from Minneapolis. But when we offered that he could follow us on the blog, Jerry told us that he doesn’t do fancy things like blogs or the web. 

Jerry grew up on a cotton farm about 40 miles north of Glenwood. He used to pick the cotton until he joined the military when he was 17. He got a “real education in Southeast Asia,” where he fought in the Vietnam war for about a year. He explained that anyone who said they weren’t scared in a war is lying. He also told us that he didn’t think he could kill people, and he’s not proud of it, but he did what he had to do. 

Jerry gave us some intel on the road to our campsite and the local area generally. Super nice guy. 

As we started to bike off, Jerry called out. He had something more on his mind. 

“What do you think of the state of the country?” he asked, pointedly. 

Here we go . . .

Reminds me of the time that Diana abandoned with me her Dad when we had just started dating in college. He had a thick Chinese accent – kind of like Gunnar’s German accent. You could make out what he was saying, but it took some effort . . .

”John, are you a democrat or a republican?”

I look over at Diana – who is in the kitchen, hears the conversation, but does absolutely nothing to help. (Thanks a lot. I should have known then that I would be in for a lifetime of no sympathy . . . 🙂

“Umm, yeah, I’m a democrat I guess,” I say, as circumspectly as possible. 

“I conservative. Very, very conservative.” 

Turns out that after you fight the Communists in the Chinese Civil War – and literally watch them kill some of your family members – that you turn out to be pretty conservative. 

Anyway, I survived that conversation. Really, the democrat thing wasn’t that bad. Turns out that even Diana’s Mom was pretty liberal. The bigger problem was that I wasn’t Chinese. Later, when we were engaged, her mom greeted the news with: “Well, we knew when we come to America that only a 50-50 chance that our children will marry Chinese . . .”

Oh, sorry, back to Jerry. I guess I figured if I could survive the inquisition from Dr. Liu (Diana’s Dad was a veterinary pathologist and I always called him Dr. Liu) I could handle a dialogue with Jerry from Glenwood. 

“I actually think the country is doing pretty well,” I told him. ”What do you think?”

”I think the country is in a really terrible place.”

”We need that pipeline (not sure what pipeline he is referring to – but assuming it is for carrying oil . . .). And we need to close the borders,” he added. “Half the people in this town are from down there (meaning Mexico, I think).”

”Do you think they’re here illegally?” I asked. 

“Yes, absolutely.” 

I told him I agreed that we needed to have a secure border, but I also told him that I thought we should be letting some people in legally. He agreed with that. 

But then I told him that I thought whoever won the election we would have more secure borders. 

I don’t think that’s what Jerry wanted to here. We parted ways at that point – amicably, but it was clear that Jerry was hoping we would identify on the Trump side of the equation. 

One more example of a Trump person who is not crazy or hateful. The reality is that change is hard for people and some of these towns are going through some pretty big changes. Not just demographically, but also economically. I know plenty of liberals who have a hard time with change as well . . .

 I continue to think we need to have more conversations like this one. We may not agree, but maybe we can get beyond the serious acrimony.

Oh boy. Off course again. The main point of the Jerry story is that we seem to be getting closer to cowboys and a Texas outlook on life (Having never been to Texas I’m speaking only from my biases and the stereotypes I’ve accumulated over time . . . Which come mostly from Roger Staubach – who probably wasn’t even from Texas – and Larry McMurtry.).

On a related note, I need to offer an addendum to the story of Maria’s Harris lawn sign (from our last post). After our dinner party conversation – when we teased Maria about practically hiding the lawn sign – I guess she had bravely moved the sign to a more prominent position in the yard. This morning Gunnar sent the pictures, below – depicting Maria’s lawn sign before and after the mangling. 

Jerry didn’t do it. He was with me in Glenwood. That leaves the other 2 million plus Trump supporters in this State . . .

But wait. I have a few other Texas, or at least Deep South-isms, to offer . . .

The cows and the cattle and the ranch type feel. Like I said, we have left row crops way in the rear view mirror at this point. Not since the Katy Trail in Missouri have we seen any corn. Now we’re starting to see beef cattle with the big long horns, mules (which I associate with Arkansas and Texas and anyplace mentioned in Lonesome Dove), and even the cows seem more Texas in their attitudes. Check out this video, below, for some serious bovine attitude . . .

Lastly, there’s the beef jerky guy. Actually, that’s not right. I guess he’s a venison butcher. But even that’s probably wrong. Seems like what he really is is a money launderer – like in Ozark (well done, but terrible show – way too dark for me). 

So I see this cool looking store. Black’s Custom Butchering. Jerky. Butcher shop. Fresh cut meats. Smoked meats. Hot rotisserie chicken. Snacks. 

“Let’s stop here,” I say to Diana. 

Now, Diana really has no interest in stopping, but when it comes to interesting foods Diana’s pretty much always game. 

So we pull up. But before we even start to get off of our bikes there’s a voice: 

“What do you want?”

It does not sound friendly.

It takes me a moment, but I realize that the voice is coming from a man at the door of this fine establishment. 

“Umm, was hoping to get some jerky.”

”We don’t have none of that. Haven’t done that in years.” (This with the deep drawl that we are starting to hear more and more of – another sign that Louisiana and Texas are coming . . .) 

“Well, maybe we could get something else,” I offer.

”We don’t do that anymore, we just butcher deer.”

Trying to lighten the conversation a little (because it is weirdly hostile considering we are trying to buy stuff from him and his place looks exactly like a store), I ask: “How much do deer weigh down here? We’re from Minnesota and it seems like the deer down here are smaller.”

This evokes some mild interest. Very mild. 

“Our deer range from 100-115 pounds or so.”

And the door starts to close. 

We clearly are not welcome . . .

Seems like a pretty shady place. Literally a huge store front – with an emphasis on “front.” But basically no business to speak of. 

Again, evokes Ozark, but seems really Texas-like somehow . . .

And then let me share this fine country estate with you . . . Check out the video, below. LOTS more dog action today. But, fortunately, they were mostly jolly canines today. They greet you with a big bark, but then they are just curious and happy to make your acquaintance.

Leaving the Texas theme, can I just say that this might be the nicest non-Boundary Waters campsite that I have ever been to. Right on a super pretty lake. Just a few other campers. Plenty of room. Nice fire grate and picnic table. Easy to find fire wood. Oh, and it’s not a State Park so there was no Ranger Rick with nothing to do – meaning that Diana could swim back and forth to her heart’s content. And I think her heart was very contented this afternoon. 

Super nice dinner. Super nice evening. Super nice day.

That’s the news from the Deepest South that I’ve ever been . . . Feel like we’ll be getting into cotton country tomorrow. On to Clinton’s birthdplace – Hope!

Next few days – Shreveport, Louisiana. Suggestions and ideas for our stay in the Ratchet City. Many blog points awarded . . .