Greetings From Deep in the Heart of Texas

Jann's vintage texas postcards

This town was the gateway to the ole West.  In Texas, there are about sixty five towns that tell you they are the ‘Gateway’ to the ole something – in letters seventy feet high, so it is said by NASA you can see them on the moon and get a real homelike sensation – failing to note, however, that calling the town ‘a gateway’ really means that it’s nothing but a piss stop for folks with their hearts set on getting somewhere else. But as I have said before you get the impression at times that the guide book is grasping. In Texas, The Interstate rates as an attraction in itself: families will send postcards home to their loved ones that say “We’re on the Interstate!” That’s 30,000 glaring concrete miles with a vista of telegraph wires, pylons and over carriages, cleaved between green banks and rocks covered with a thin layer of cactus weed; road signs overhead like banners; a sparkling succession of broken lines disappear under the bonnet of your car like ticker-tape or sticks of gum. For the first 30 miles all of the cars travel alongside you – all at the same speed, so it feels like you’re going real slow & the arrowhead of a great migration; we are new souls full of purpose and borne upon the wave of simple sunny optimism, or hope in its early Christian form (before they discovered America). This goes on for a while; the cars drop back, or disappear into the mouths of canyons or tunnels up ahead like wind-up toys, they turn off and never reappear from the other side of signs that say “Welcome to Wonderful Waco!” and then list a bewilderingly small population.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s