Patriotism

 

Rightly moved by small town Itasca's war memorial, Wild  commented:

I once heard Chris Matthews pontificating on his tee-vee show trying to explain the xenophobia of the red state hick by saying the little guy loves his country because that's all he's got. Meaning, the more enlightened portion of the populace would not be such fools... Not only did he miss the point, he put his Oldsmobile in reverse and drove off the bridge a second time.

 

he put his Oldsmobile in reverse and drove off the bridge. Dam straight. Patriotism, true love of Patria, begins at home, not with abstract bi-coastal Harvard inspired imagination but with love of where you actually are, the one you're with, your family, village, town, city and on. Chesterton expounds:

Let us suppose we are confronted with a desperate thing, say Pimlico. If we think what is really best for Pimlico we shall find the thread of thought leads to the throne or the mystic and the arbitrary. It is not enough for a man to disapprove of Pimlico: in that case he will merely cut his throat or move to Chelsea. Nor, certainly, is it enough for a man to approve of Pimlico: for then it will remain Pimlico, which would be awful. 

The only way out of it seems to be for somebody to love Pimlico: to love it with a transcendental tie and without any earthly reason. If there arose a man who loved Pimlico, then Pimlico would rise into ivory towers and golden pinnacles; Pimlico would attire herself as a woman does when she is loved. For decoration is not given to hide horrible things: but to decorate things already adorable. A mother does not give her child a blue bow because he is so ugly without it. A lover does not give a girl a necklace to hide her neck. If men loved Pimlico as mothers love children, arbitrarily, because it is theirs, Pimlico in a year or two might be fairer than Florence. 

Some readers will say that this is a mere fantasy. I answer that this is the actual history of mankind. This, as a fact, is how cities did grow great. Go back to the darkest roots of civilization and you will find them knotted round some sacred stone or encircling some sacred well. People first paid honour to a spot and afterwards gained glory for it. Men did not love Rome because she was great. She was great because they had loved her.

 

GKC and Wild, I'd argue, are right in the X Ring.

Your Patriotic Pal,

LSP

Small Town Texas

 

Welcome to the new normal in the rural idyll that is North Central Texas. But all's not lost, you can still buy regular for $4.39 a gallon, for now.

And drive to Itasca.

Which was prosperous until we declared war on ourselves.

Then it wasn't. Still, there's some bright spots like Karen's, home of famously good bean/brisket burritos, and the Olde Towne Country Store, run by Mennonites(?).

They sell all kinds of locally produced food, spices and much more besides. Their sandwich/deli's not bad either, pretty much a local lunch hangout.

Then there's the war memorial. What a terrible loss of life from such a small town.

Business taken care of I drove back to the Compound and that, all three of you readers, is the story of that.

God bless,

LSP

Well, Well, What Have We Here

Typical Texan HVAC Scene

 

Busted HVAC. Good thing Craig turned up before Morning Prayer to sort it out. And there we were, looking at the malfeasant unit. "Cuts off when the cover goes on. Why? Faulty board, pressure?" I didn't know but stood back while HVAC friend took a call from Waco.

"I need duct for... and some foots... and..." he turned to me me, call ended, "Where are we living, Babylon?" Ain't that the truth, and we discussed the current insanity of the way we live now. Then it was time to head to Itasca.

Karen's Authentic Mexican Food (it is)

Itasca's an interesting little town, mainly because of its Amish(?) deli and Karen's Authentic Mexican Food. I like both but prefer Karen's, where you can get an awesome homemade bean brisket burrito. That in hand, off to the compound to meet a hauler. His job? Take out a '50's Chevy Panel van and an '82 'vette, which is exactly what he did. 

It felt good, I tell you, being under the big sky and open air of Texas as opposed to some ersatz, strip mall facsimile. Not that I pour scorn any which way. Go on, knock yourself out at Red Lobster, Texas Roadhouse, Taco Bell, subWay, Panda Express or whatever, or enjoy Karen's. Your call. No rule.

Creepy Van

In other news, an old pal's setting up some kind of pop concert at Chanel's HQ in Paris. In homage to Coco, or just for bucks? Maybe both. Whatever, if you want to get on the VIP list send an email, we can only say no, or YES.

Whatev. I'm not joining the Parisian party because I can't fly. No DevilVax you see.

Truly,

LSP

Go For A Drive And Visit The Flock

In the old days you'd walk around the parish and visit people, now you climb into the rig and head out to the county. But I'm not complaining, it's good to drive around Hill County on a spring day, everything's green, the sun shines and all seems well with the world in its central Texan aspect.

Eureka

I passed through Eureka on the back route to Itasca, which was settled after the Civil War and was never very large; now it's smaller, being pretty much a cemetery and some grain bins. The cemetery's on ground owned by the same family since the 1870s, curiously. Then on through the rural Itascan dystopia.

Itasca

Saying that, Itasca does have Karen's and a great new Amish(?) deli, as well as the usual falling down warehouses and boarded up shops. But there's a number of towns here that aren't much more than an historical marker or cemetery; the people, businesses and industry moved on along with the use of the land itself. 

Blanton

Sometimes I'll stop to explore an abandoned house that's returning to nature and I did today, in what was once Blanton. It's eerie, looking at the abandonment, but don't get lost in the thought of the thing and step on a snake, that'd be an error.

 A Dwarf Surfboard?

Blanton prospered in the 1880s and '90s, boasting 150 residents, a school, two doctors, a mason,  blacksmith, shopkeepers, numerous churches, a cotton gin, gristmills and a cemetery. 

Sic Transit

Then the Texas and Brazos Valley Railway bypassed the town in the early 1900s and the place declined. There's little left now.

Fast

Still, it's a tranquil place to gaze out on the countryside from the tailgate with one of Karen's bean and brisket burritos but not today, no bean and brisket because of the Lenten fast. Well, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and after a short no burrito stopover in bucolic Blanton I drove to Whitney via 934/933, enjoying the countryside.

Only to end back at the County Seat and the Tractor Supply Company, where they're selling chicks. Scientists, who are experts, tell us that these are the descendants of mighty dinosaurs. 

Unfazed by this, people buy the fluffy little birds for backyard chicken operations, so there'll be no shortage of eggs here come the Eschaton.

God bless,

LSP

Wash Out!

My youngest son, who's visiting from Canada, wanted to go for a shoot today and who can blame him. It sounded good to me too and the plan was to load up on clays, shotgun ammo, some .45 and head out into the wilderness for fun and adventure. Then it started to rain and didn't stop, it was like Wales, maybe Aberystwyth.

But the living room was dry, fortunately, and we looked out of its windows at the watery apocalypse. "Son, this isn't shooting weather." He agreed and I nodded grimly as the varied detritus of modern life flowed past the Compound, "That's an excellent point. Let's go to Karen's and get some food."

So we hydroplaned to Karen's Authentic Mexican Food in Itasca and bought a bag of bean and brisket burritos. Then we hydroplaned back and ate those bad boys like they were going out of fashion, which they're not because they're so tasty. Good work, Karen, you did it again.

The guns got a look-in too. Sure, maybe you don't want to shoot in the deluge but you can always clean the little blasters, which is what I did. Meanwhile, boy and dog amused themselves while the rain poured down.

They say, interestingly, that enough rain falls in Texas to keep the average house in water for a year. Of course this figure might be skewed by the population boom in the Lone Star Sate as people flee Illinois, California and associated workers' paradises for our sunny southern weather.

Gun rights,

LSP

Blinded By The Sun

Monday seemed as good a day as any to wake up ridiculously early and head off to the woods by the range. So that's what I did. I took a shotgun, of course, and got there as the sun was rising. What would I find in the woods?

Bobcats? Coyotes? Squirrels? Rabbits? A marauding hog? Well, you never know and as it turns out, none of these things crossed my path. What I saw instead were lots of Woodpeckers, who were busy kicking up a racket, and a big hawk that took off majestically from the top of an old oak.

Undaunted, I cranked off a few shots at a branch that was sticking out of the water of a trashy natural tank that's called The Beach.

How Very Awesome

After the firefight, which I won, I drove to Karen's Authentic Mexican Food in Itasca and bought two Bean & Brisket burritos.

Then I ate those twin pillars of orthodoxy, on the porch.

LSP