While I’ve been writing this week’s column from Florence, Texas, my thoughts are all over the place. I am coming up short for a certain theme, story, commentary,or feature. Much like the vehicle I drove last week, I am all over the place. Not a good place for a columnist to be who must be mindful of word limits. Focus is seldom my companion.
Should this column be about small-town America, thriving in many places and hanging on in others? What about all the quaint and charming old houses with porches in Holland and Italy? Chances are the folks sitting on those porches had stories to tell. I could pen a few words about the civic pride in downtowns past their glory days but not giving up their vital role for locals. Revitalization grants for some. Outside investors for others. The Dwell House Coffee Shop, which is providing my workplace and wi-fi today, is one such beneficiary. Even a small gesture such as planting fresh spring pansies around a small city hall structure revealed pride.
I should write about five kids standing on the corner of Main Street and Patterson Avenue waving a handwritten sign, “8th Grade DC/NY Pulled Pork BBQ Sandwiches.” These students were fundraising to pay every cent of their upcoming June trip. The tres leches cake from the bake sale was worth the donation to their cause, but the sweetest thing is knowing how much the students will learn about themselves and our country as they tour the nation’s capital and the Big Apple.
I could write ten columns about my family dynamics related to sibling text exchanges. Taking a road trip means my big brother is my Big Brother. Scotty cautioned me about driving late and interacting with strangers. After he asked me about carrying a handgun for protection, I posted a photo with my dad’s old starter pistol (harmless but a deterrent). Scotty admonished me, “Not everyone gets our sense of humor” followed by “just trying to look out for you.” And that’s actually nice to know.
The young couple kissing under the Eiffel Tower replica in Paris, Texas, made me smile. Cashing in six of seven scratch-off tickets bought in small towns put change in the pocket for the coffee shops. The wildflowers on ranch and farm-to-market roads were particularly expressive this year, a visual that never gets old on late March and April days. It was nice to see that the smallest of communities still had their post offices and their churches— Baptist, Methodist, Church of Christ, Catholic. I wonder if there ever was a time when one worship building united the faithful. That would make for another interesting column.
I have my column now. This brainstorming has reminded me that most of you live in such places. Your town may have a single blinking light. Or, a courthouse, a café, a place to enjoy a cup of coffee and a piece of pie, and a favorite spot to participate in conversations about the weather. Speaking of, I will try to send the rain from the Hill Country back home to the Panhandle, Rolling Plains, and West Texas. Consider it a souvenir from my trip.
Snyder, Texas, native Sue Jane Sullivan is a retired schoolteacher whose thought-provoking commentary appears occasionally in several West Texas newspapers, including The Texas Spur and The Caprock Courier.
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