I remember, I remember, Midland and Odessa bring back sharp and pointed memories.
The girlfriend I was traveling with, who arrived at the airport, foot in a cast – we flew in from different points of origin. The other girlfriend who arranged a private tour of the CAF museum, and that tour included about fifty pieces of untouched “nose art” that was clearly a repository of great American folk art, all but forgotten.
The time I was double-booked with girls, one on Saturday, a different one on Sunday, names and signs withheld by request, or the nurse. The lonely time when, on Sunday morning, I walked to the distant convenience store, all alone, got a cup of coffee and pack of cigarettes, I think. Noticed how hard the land was, packed sand, thorny mesquite brush. All varying shades of brown.
I was a player, in my time. Long past. Can’t live the life of the wandering minstrel.
I recall the old hotel we worked, the second floor. It’s so flat, out the window, next week was visible.
Older memories, when and where I graduated high school, Roswell, NM. Not that far away, real similar topography.
The Midland/Odessa airport, MAF, it was, for me, a gateway to Big Bend and the personal favorite places, Alpine, Marfa, Ft. Davis. The University of Texas has the McDonald Observatory there, too. Star Parties are worth a visit, and I’ve been VIP into the area. Mustn’t let them know I’m an astrologer, though, very different from scientists these days.
The most poignant revel, though, is that a wee lad, accompanying my father on a business trip out here. Something about a refinery, and I was but five to seven years old. I wore a tiny business suit, and it was a cold day. All I recall. I was left with a plant foreman for a while and he showed me how to win a chess game in four moves. I don’t play chess these days.
