DianeOutLoud

I’m setting the alarm for morning and I’m getting up and going. There’s a Grand Am in the garage, a duffle bag I’ll toss in the trunk, the MapQuest directions and black licorice in the front seat with me, and it will be nothing but country tunes all the way. I’ll get that garage door open and find the Interstate 20 East. My destination is Archer City, Texas, home of Larry McMurtry and his very own bookstore called BOOKED UP. What better pilgrimage for a bibliophile like me, a fan of Larry’s writing, and one who also has a connection/fascination/repulsion for this big macho state. Even the slogan, DON’T MESS WITH TEXAS, so laid back, so mildly threatening. It’s time for the road trip, this my last weekend here in Texas. I want to discover another Texas too, and chronicle something other than the dismay I’ve felt with my own limited experience here in Midland, this oil patch town.

I have no plan except to drive. Me, road, music, sky. I know I have 38 hours to wander, the car must be back by Sunday night. BOOKED UP is only open until 5:00 on Saturday, closed Sundays. I’ll head there first. Leaving but having no definitive plan, no reservations, no research done, is like one gigantic exhale for me. It’s the adventure combined with the be here now. Up until now I’ve walked small, around and around this neighbourhood, now I’m finally taking flight.

Larry McMurtry lives in Archer City. I’m sure he’s also a denizen of America’s larger cities, too. Anyone who is a Pulitzer Prize and Oscar winning author must have places to go to, people to see. Did you know that he and his partner Diana Ossana wrote the screenplay for BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN? What a brilliant and compassionate trio: he and Diana and author Annie Proulx who wrote the original short story, “Brokeback Mountain.”

Archer City has less than 2,000 people. Why it’s called City I don’t know. Is everything really bigger in Texas if you say so? This saying originated about a certain type of Texas man, ALL HAT NO CATTLE. But to be fair, there are no geographic boundaries for those that fit that description. Perhaps Texans have a wit I just don’t acknowledge too easily. I lose my sense of humour around Bush supporters. Yesterday an incredibly expensive fully loaded luxury car slunk by me, the bumpers sloganed with God Bless America and Bush propaganda which was gag worthy enough, but sailing from its window on a pole the size of a mast, was an over the top, oversized American flag. Was it Grade 7 or Grade 8 History class where the textbooks warned that excessive nationalism breeds imperialism?

Sometimes when I forget the bigger picture, and can’t see through four walls, or my walking neighbourhood hems me in, or I’m so defeated from the things that debilitate our human spirit, it’s then I remember to look to the sky. I remember what my friend wrote to me, “Take care of yourself and look up. I’m looking at the same stars and thinking of you lots.” I will look up. I share these clouds and stars with everyone. I’ll find our kinder similarities instead of rail about abhorrent differences. This weekend my expectations on the ground are small, just a safe journey and some peace of mind. I will ask Larry to lunch if I can, there is a Dairy Queen just down the street. But if our paths don’t cross, I’ll be happy to be among book lovers, see the bookstore he has built, and appreciate what a great man he is. He said he grew up in a bookless town and wants to create in Archer City another Hay-on-Wye, the small town in Wales which has become a mecca in the literary world. The ratio of bookstores to people is toppling. I’ll be overjoyed to introduce myself and say “Hi, Larry! I’m Diane from Midland, by way of Fort Langley, by way of Vancouver, originally from Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada. I’ve met you in the bookstore for a long, long time…”

I would tell him about the words written above my door, SOLVITUR AMBULANDO (It is solved by walking).

I would tell him that when I was reading “Duane’s Depressed” through a blur of tears, I kept seeing “Diane’s Depressed” which made me laugh, and then cry harder.

I would tell him that I read the whole Lonesome Dove series every night through the last hellish weeks of my job, and crazily, all the shooting, raping, and pillaging kept me sane.

Or maybe we’ll just sit quietly in a booth, looking out the window at the same big sky.

Good Life
diane

This entry was posted on Friday, October 26th, 2007 at 11:04 pm and is filed under Home Thoughts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.