“IT STRIKES” Again: I’m glad I went to Texas and can sing about ‘The Bucksnort Cafe’

[The following column was first published in March, 2003. Why did I travel 4,200 km. in 42 hours and venture into an unknown land? Because of love and devotion? There was some of that. gah]

I’m glad I went to Texas and can sing about ‘The Bucksnort Cafe’

I went to Texas because ‘The Village Idiot’ wasn’t open.

My son David was graduating from a fire-fighting program at A & M University in late February. I had decided not to attend. I planned to take the savings on travel costs and treat David and his son Jackson to a vacation in Ottawa upon his return. On one hand my wife Pat liked my plan. On the other hand she wanted to go to Texas.

I thought travel plans to Texas had been put to rest after a lengthy talk over coffee at The Roaster four days before David’s graduation. However, when we stepped outside we met David’s girlfriend Shelley on her way inside. She informed us she had given up her plans to fly south for the ceremony because of airport security and George W’s Code Orange.

I again mentioned Ottawa, the savings, Texas was a three-day road-trip, that it was now Tuesday, that David and Jackson would have great fun reconnecting in our nation’s capital in mid-March. The ladies were momentarily appeased but soon began a serious conversation about alternate ways the two of them could get to Texas.

I felt it was time to shop for used vinyl and CDs.

As I hurried across Wortley Road to ‘The Village Idiot’ I thought, “Gordie, your plan is excellent - stick to it. Hey, buy a CD. You’ll feel better.”

Unfortunately the shop wasn’t open. I checked my watch. 10:10. I asked myself, where’s Robert with his friendly hello when I need him? Rather than walk home alone I retraced my steps to see if Pat and Shelley had reached a final decision. As I approached I noticed their desire to travel south had clearly reached critical mass. Tears were flowing.

I hesitated but weakly offered, “Well, I’ll check the maps again for you two when I get home, though I’m pretty sure you’d need three days.”

I got on the phone and the Internet. I soon believed the three of us could get there a day early if we shared two days of hard driving. Goodbye Ottawa. Hello Texas.


["David, in the center. Photos from a second graduation in Toronto, Canada."]


["GH with sons Paul and David and grandson Jackson, at Toronto grad ceremony"]


["Shelley, David and Jackson. David now works for Toronto Fire Dept."]

After making arrangements I shared with Pat, “We’re booked at a Best Western in Nashville on Wednesday night and we’ll be in time for supper with David on Thursday. David said we can stay at his dorm. One of us gets the floor. I think it’s you. How’s that sound so far?”

“Wonderful!”

As Pat stepped out the front door to go to work she said, “Don’t forget traveller’s cheques, health insurance, U.S. money, bedding. Boil eggs for sandwiches, pack the portable bed, your good shirt and a sports jacket.”

“Um, okay. You’ve been thinking about this a bit, eh?” I said.

“Since the invitation arrived in January.”

We arrived in Texas on schedule and held a cheerful reunion in a cold, wet parking lot near David’s residence.

We savoured huge, juicy steaks at a firehall on Friday and proudly watched the evening’s festivities. When David was honoured as class ‘Prime Minister’ the three Canadians in the auditorium simultaneously pulled out cotton handerkerchiefs.

We drove 4,200 km. in 42 hours, made 30 new friends and snapped 72 more photos of David with Shelley.

We enjoyed morning coffees at the Cowhill Express Company, shared mutual jokes with tall Texans about funny accents and drove past a town called Bucksnort.

I’d go again in a minute.

gah

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