Out and about, and the story behind a novel

 

A banner day—I went to the hardware store with Jordan and then to lunch with Subie and Phil. Our neighborhood is blessed with an Ace Hardware store—good-sized with a fairly recent huge expansion but still so much smaller than Home Depot or Loew’s. At Westcliff Hardware, you’re liable to have an older gentleman, retired from who knows what career, help you, and oh my, are they knowledgeable. Today one of them replaced the inoperative pull chain on the bankers’ light on my desk and replaced the batteries in our key fobs. We bought Christmas lights, canning jars (I swear I’m making cranberry for friends), mailed a book (yes, there’s a USPS substation), and impulsively bought an artificial table-top Christmas tree to replace the beaten, raggedy one that I’ve had for several years. We left untouched a huge department of kitchen and cooking goods, including every gadget you can think of for a Big Green Egg. I am so grateful to have this friendly, welcoming store near us The son of a friend worked there in high school and learned an amazing amount. I suggested it to Jacob, but he said no thank you!

We barely got home in time for Subie and Phil to pick me up for lunch. We went to a favorite spot, recently redecorated. My choice because the place Subie recommended apparently doesn’t serve lunch anymore. The Tavern was good, but….in redecorating they have paid no attention to acoustics, and sound bounces off hard surfaces everywhere, from a wonderfully old-fashioned tile floor to wooden ceilings. Phil declared this was his second time, and he’s never going back again. Usually, Phil can hear better than I can, but not today. I liked some things about the décor, others not so much. I suggested the noise level was partly deliberate to turn tables, and Phil said data shows (we loved that phrase) that people drink more in a noisy environment. Having had lamb last night and knowing I’d have leftovers tonight, I chose a small bowl of tomato/basil soup and a small Caesar salad. Both excellent. They serve a wonderful meatloaf which, with redecorating, migrated from a once-a-week special to the regular menu, and I will go back for that, noise and all.

Sophie is still having a hard go of it with the time change. She seems to have an accurate inner clock that has not adjusted, so whereas she was sleeping until 8:30, she now gets me up at 7:30. And promptly at four she begins to ask for her dinner. I try to explain that we’re all going to have to adjust to this new time, but she’s having none of it. Consequently, the change is as hard on me as it is on her. Left to myself, I’d adjust pretty quickly.

My funny story for the day. I read that a small California town, Oroville, has declared itself a “constitutional republic,” no longer subject to the rules of the federal or state government. It reminded me of the novel I wrote way back in the eighties, Luke and the Van Zandt War. Post-Civil War, when Sherman oversaw Texas, Van Zandt County in East Texas withdrew from the state and the country. Sherman would not stand for it and sent troops marching up the road to quell the rebellion. But they marched in proper military fashion, two abreast, in the middle of the road. The farmers of Van Zandt County hid in the trees—East Texas had not yet been plowed and planted and was pretty much untamed forest. Anyway, the farmers took potshots at the soldiers, who were forced to retreat.

The farmers went into the county seat, Canton, and celebrated with a huge bonfire and much passing of the little brown jug. As the evening wore on, the soldiers slipped through the trees, surrounded the town, and arrested most of the men. Those arrested spent a long, cold winter in a hastily-built stockade. When spring came, the rains loosened the logs of the stockade enough that they could be parted, and one by one the men of Van Zandt County slipped into the night.

I loved that story and put two teenagers in the middle of it for the novel. It was named Best Juvenile of the Year by the Texas Institute of Letters. At the awards ceremony, the emcee said something to the effect that the person who always won this award wasn’t eligible that year and so the award went to me. The literary life has its little ironies. Fun to recall the novel, the story behind it, and the half-hearted award.

I wish the people of Oroville a better outcome. The rebellion apparently has to do with Covid restrictions, so I'm not terribly sympathetic. 

Sweet dreams, everyone.