Shack Street

 

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."

A Shack. Note boarded up assisted living complex in background

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.

Another Shack. Thanks, Globalists

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

Ghost Town

This place has become a Ghost Town

We do not know when the mist will lift or what it holds.

Smart people are saying their Rosaries and blessing Holy Water.

Be safe.

LSP

The Cotton's Gone

William

I walked the few minutes into town this morning to go to the Post Office and met William; he's 71 and does a bit of "scrapping" though he used to work on the cotton back when that was the industry of the county. He told me how the sound of the cotton press filled the air, but that was some time ago.

County Seat

Now the cotton's gone and the town's declined from a population of 20,000 to less than 8,000. That trend looks set to continue as there aren't any jobs; a concerted attempt to turn the place into an antiques and gift shop emporium failed miserably. Fine by me.

Once a bank, now a failed gift shop

At the turn of the last century things were different, with the Square being notorious for cockfighting, drunkenness and lewd behavior of all kinds.

Bad behavior gone

I understand that things were cleaned up by the '30s. Now there doesn't seem to be much behavior of any kind, which is a shame. I'd like to see a pub, butcher, tack shop, gun shop, and a place to drink coffee and buy books.

Why cut down the trees?

Surely that's not asking for too much? As it is, Hillsboro's starting to get that deserted "turning into a ghost town" feel. Surely it doesn't have to be that way.

On a different theme, there was big commotion in my neighbor's chicken coop. I thought it was a cat until a great hawk glided up and over the fence. Wish I'd taken a picture.

It seems to me as though the place is reverting to nature and maybe that's no bad thing. Neither should it be an obstacle to getting a pub...

Cheers,

LSP