It’s the 16th straight day of triple-digit temperatures – above 100°F (38°C). It’s too hot to do anything much outside. One of my
favorite routes out of Dallas is Route 80, eastbound – just past Fruitvale and
down a small country lane, hardly even signposted, is Caney Creek cowboy
church, which is where I headed. I’ve been there before, though only for the
rodeo, and not for a service. The people, as in every cowboy church I’ve been
to, are friendly, and not pushy. I lost count of the number of people that came
up to welcome me, and shake my hand. Donations are purely voluntary – no plate
is passed around. It’s not necessary to get dressed up, and you can get up for
coffee and doughnuts from the kitchen anytime. You don’t have to sing unless
you want to, and you can just clap along or tap your feet if you prefer. The
band plays Christian country and gospel songs, and the octogenarian fiddler
keeps up just fine. And always, the final song is Happy Trails.
After the
service, I took Route 80 back west as far as the intersection with Route 19,
and then headed north. At the intersection there’s a fruit stand, where I
bought purple hull peas and melons – fresh fruit and vegetables are abundant at
this time of year, and I’m staying in a “long stay” hotel that has cooking
facilities – pure joy! About 15 miles north is the small town of Emory, where I
noticed that many cars were pulling into the Y’all Come Back Café, so I stopped
for lunch. Nothing fancy about the place, but it was packed, which is always a
good sign. There was a single space at the counter, and I sat down next to an
old guy who goes there every Sunday. His hands shook with a slight tremor as he
ate the same lunch he always has. It turns out he was stationed at RAF Brize
Norton during the war. I ordered Chicken Fried Chicken with mashed potatoes and
gravy, and sweet tea (yes – that’s it in the picture), and we chatted about his
time there until my food arrived. It was delicious – succulent chicken, crispy
on the outside, potatoes generously covered with gravy, with an extra dish of
gravy on the side for good measure.
40 miles further on I passed through another small town – Celeste. I don’t know
if anyone that lives there is proud of it – it sure doesn’t look like it. Almost
all of the storefronts were boarded up, and the “City Hall and Police
Department” building is seriously in need of refurbishing. I know it’s tough to
keep rural communities going these days – we see it in England, too – but if
nobody steps up to the plate to do something about it, we’ll all be living in
cities like rats in an overcrowded cage.
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Today, the US Women’s Soccer team played Japan in the final
of the World Cup. They lost after a penalty shootout, which is never a
satisfactory end to a game – especially such an important one. After the game,
the US team goalie, Hope Solo, had this to say:
“We lost to a great
team, we really did. Japan is a team that I’ve always had a lot of respect for,
and I truly believe that something bigger was pulling for this team. As much as
I’ve always wanted this, if there was any other team I could give this to it
would have to be Japan. I’m happy for them and they do deserve it.”
I wish we heard more of this sentiment in professional
sports – I’ve had enough of these “overpaid soccer stars, prancing teens,
Australian soaps, American rap, Estuary English, baseball caps”. I think it’s
way past time we kicked men out of positions of power, and gave women a shot at
it – they certainly couldn’t do worse.
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