on the road again

North out of Greenville on roads I'd never traveled before Thursday. Tiny towns with intriguing names. Celeste. Kingston. Leonard. Trenton. Bells. One of them proudly proclaiming a population of 213 on the two city limit signs located about a mile apart. Lots of blue and white historical markers. Second-time-around shops in abundance, so many that if I'd stopped at each I'd not yet be home.

Along with the first sign for mileage to Durant I saw fields of corn "as high as a elephant's eye." Green and growing, no visible means of irrigation, evidence that the rain has, so far, come regularly this summer. The drought not quite so bad there as here.

And then the jewel in the crown. Beautiful Bonham. Barely fifteen minutes to drive from southern to northern limits. If your thing is fast food you're in good shape, but if your taste runs to anything other than Mickey D's you're not. Yes, there's a high school, but it seemed small in comparison with other little Texas towns. A relative dearth of industry and available employment, Not a video store in sight. No bowling alley. Not even a movie theater.

But there's a gorgeous State Park, not grandiose but still grand in scale. And the mail carrier walks from house to house, instead of depending solely on the red/white/blue truck. Gracious, unpretentious, old homes with generous yards. Townfolk not just approachable in nature but ready and willing to stop whatever they are doing and spend as much of their time as needed to help you out when you ask for directions. A place where a tourist is treated not as an imposition in life, but the reason for it.

I understand why the young ones would want so desperately to leave. But I also know deep in my heart why there are folks who want to return. And others who have, simply, always been content to stay in their home on this range. God bless them all.