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The online chronicles of a painter living in Austin, Texas |
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A VISIT TO EAST TEXAS It was an extended weekend in East Texas, a four day stopover at Laura and Jesse's father's lake house on the Texas-Louisiana border. In a land filled with trailers and good ol' boys, the Texas oasis that is Austin seemed like it was a million miles away. The weather was cold, wet, windy and overcast, limiting our boating and canoeing options all weekend, so we headed into town, which was a gas station on a corner with random groceries strewn about plenty of empty space in a futile attempt to fill the shelves. There was, however, a treasure trove of fishing and hunting supplies. We were able to pick up some .22 bullets and some beer and chips. Old Milwaukee was the beer of choice, an odd choice, but explained by one helpful employee who jokingly chastised our city-boy antics of buying some Corona, "We don't sell much Corona here, sell a lot of Old Milwaukee, but not a whole lot of Corona." Left to our own devices inside the house, Jesse quickly gathered up all the guns he could find - a rifle, a shotgun and a pistol - and we made our way to the back porch with ammo in hand. We unloaded about 60 shots - 22s, buck shots and the like - and quickly found ourselves with a huge problem in East Texas - we were out of ammo. We headed back to see our friends at the corner gas station - but we bought the last of their bullets - so we drove six miles up the road to Six Mile but had no luck at the store at their main crossroads. Following the roads west, and trying to not drive the extra twenty miles to end up at the Walmart in Jasper, Texas, we found ourselves nearly twenty miles out of our way but finally with another hundred shots in our hand. There is something overly intoxicating about guns and fire that makes the blood rush and pulse quicken a bit. With Jesse and I firing round after round into assorted targets, our minds began to wander and wonder what it'd be like to start shooting the wind chime, the bird house, and the like. We resisted the temptation, and both brought ourselves back from the brink of destruction and self-destruction while Julia and Laura looked on at their boys with concern. The rest of the weekend was a relaxing mix of shooting guns, haphazardly launching fireworks, playing Scrabble, and sitting around a bonfire drinking cheap beer and having a good laugh. Julia played the role of a good woman and spent most of her free time baking pies and cooking meals with gravies in the kitchen. (Both Julia and Laura tried their hands at shooting guns, but the experience lacked the zest and allure that Jesse and I fixated on) Besides finally becoming a man and shooting a gun for the first time in my life (and surprisingly, with a spot on accuracy that was alarming to even me), and overcoming the culture shock of how the other half lives, I noticed my speech slowed a bit, I possessed a desire to continue to shoot things, and I tried to keep them 'librated women' in the kitchen. Most of those tendencies slipped away during the five and a half hour ride home, but the image of those .22 casings flipping out of that rifle gets my blood pumping again...
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