One of the things I like to do is walk around and explore this bucolic rural haven in North Central Texas. But, to be honest, after 12 years there's not much you haven't seen. Not so fast, so-called "LSP." And I saw something new today, a new street I hadn't walked before, a street of shacks.
The adventure began after yet another meeting with a banker, which went well. We were opening a new account with some of the Mission's newly unfrozen funds, and the First National Bank of Texas were friendly. All well and good. After the meeting, I said goodbye to our Treasurer, "Debbie, thanks for that, I will now stroll to the pawnshop."
She paused, "What? You're walking?" I thought about that for a moment and answered, "Yes, Ma'am, I am. I have a ministry to the town's Pawns. A few years ago I buried Miss Dale, who ran the Gold Nugget. She used to ask me for Holy Water and I'd deliver, by the gallon. She claimed the customers needed it and I believed her."
A few moments later I found myself walking with purpose towards the pawn and suddenly it struck me, I've never been here before. Yes, it was sinister, somehow threatenning. There was a boarded up "assisted living" complex, residents gone, not even a crack commune inhabiting the vinyl floors and broken windows. I gazed at it in wonder. Why have I never seen this? It was like the Twilight Zone.
And so was the next street, a street of shacks. All new, I'd never seen them before, but they reminded me of the year or so the SPC stayed. As I drove him to High School to make sure he went, I'd point out a random shack, "Play your cards right, fella, and you too could live in one of those." Hey, he rose to the game and, let's not be proud, there but by the grace of God.
All too soon, Shack Street ended and there was a machine shop, flying a Come And Take It flag. That filled me with hope. All hail Texas.
That in mind, let's rebuild our towns and make them the communities they should be, as opposed to asset-stripped slums, gutted by transnational elite oligarchs who hide under a veneer of Millionaire, sorry, Billionaire Socialism.
Your Pal,
LSP
Make America Great Again!
ReplyDelete"... let's rebuild our towns..."
ReplyDeleteOh, do let's.
Before my Army hitch, I spent two years at a junior college. I took some elective courses for personal interest, one of which was house framing and construction. During my hitch, I got the bright idea to submit my transcripts and see if they would be accepted as qualification for a secondary MOS. They were--MOS 51C. Carpenter. I like to think I am in good company.
I was just wandering down the YouTube rabbit whole when I found this. Inspiration on so many levels--
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nc8neFqI9vA
Hubby and I took one of these shacks, had a good structure, rehabbed and sold it to a couple coming to our small town from California. They did ok with keeping up the home but after 6 months called and asked when I was coming to change the furnace filters? When I explained I wasn't and why he said "should I call the mortgage company?". He was 52 and had never lived in anything but rentals. Had no clue how home ownership worked.
ReplyDeletedrjim, YES!
ReplyDeleteRHT, I was moved by the video, 100%. That in mind, I used to know some people in Israel who were part of the thing and survived. Let's pray there isn't a rerun.
ReplyDeleteCarpentry is awesome, and I'm not very good at it!
Congrats on the refurb/sale, squeeky. But really, they didn't understand they were responsible for the property? Wow.
ReplyDeleteMind you, I'm fortunate with a church house and it's a good one too. But still... Maybe, if DOGE$ breaks out and hits the Moon or Mars, property ownership will enter a different phase and the LSP collective will enjoy infinity pools, well staffed stables and the easy life of tax havens in the MAGA Islands. Till then, we soldier on.
"Who is John Galt?"
ReplyDeleteTime to move to The Gulch.
For a college photography assignment I turned in several prints I made of an old, empty house. Crackled paint, jars sitting in windows, uneven porch with brick and wood posts. The instructor said it was "garbage art." I am 75 years old and I still make pictures of old houses with crackled paint, businesses with broken windows and vine overgrowth. "Garbage art" shows used to be and where any of us might wind up.
ReplyDeleteWell said, WWW.
ReplyDeleteAin't that the truth, Sgt. And I'm with you on taking those photos. Gotta be careful of getting shot or bit by a snake tho...
ReplyDelete