June 10, 2020

After a little more than six months, we finally left Bandera on May 31st. It was a bittersweet departure after having made lots of friends and falling further in love with that spunky, little cowboy town. We picnicked with a few friends the day before we left, which was such a nice and thoughtful send off. Thank you for putting that together, Rita and Liz!

Our first day out was an easy, uneventful, 188-mile trip to Rogers, Texas, along state highways and farm-to-market roads, and we wound up at Walkers Honey Farm for the night. It was our first “Harvest Host” stay, a network of businesses such as farms, breweries, wineries, golf courses, and tourist attractions that allow free, overnight parking for RVers passing through. Wandering through the store, my first such experience since the Covid-19 lockdown began in mid-March, was such a treat! An impressive and very active honeycomb sat center stage, with an extensive inventory of honeys and honey products like lip balms, soaps, raw beeswax and pollen, filling the shelves that surrounded it. It was nice to return to something normal, if only for a little while.

The next day, we drove 158 miles up a heavily congested I-35 to Lewisville, northwest of Dallas, where engine maintenance and the installation of a new awning were scheduled for Felix. Originally we considered staying in a hotel for the duration, but since the delivery time on the awning was uncertain, we opted for Plan B: sheltering at Grandma Russell’s old home place in Kingsland, Arkansas, 320 miles to the east. She passed away in 2004, and even though the house sits empty most of the time, it’s still available for the family to use, if need be. Being there would save us from having to hole-up in hotels which would be easier with the dogs, and Dave would be able to do a little maintenance on the house if necessary. We’ve been here for a week and a half.

Kingsland, Arkansas has a population less than 450, and most of the people who live here are related. Its most famous son is Johnny Cash, who was born here in 1932. There are a lot of Russells here, and several of them live on this road, Russell Road. The nearest neighbor isn’t even in sight. There’s not much in Kingsland except for a post office, the schools, and a liquor store.

The closest town of any substance is Fordyce (population 4,300), seven miles away. Its famous son is Paul “Bear” Bryant, infamous head coach of the University of Alabama. Roll Tide.

There is one, small grocery store, a limited number of restaurants—McDonald’s, Sonic, whatever’s inside the Exxon station (said to have the best food in town, according to a billboard) and a food truck—a rural hospital, one veterinarian, a couple of banks, and a funeral home. But, not surprisingly, a plethora of churches of various denominations. The mascot of the Fordyce School District, proudly emblazoned on a multitude of banners hanging on most of the street lights in town is red bugs, akin to chiggers. Of all the possible mascots a school district could’ve chosen to represent it, why on earth RED BUGS??? I can only shake my head.

To say I’m out of my element is putting it mildly. My husband, with whom the last three months have been spent in virtual lockdown, is the only person around for miles and miles, and patience—usually tenuous, at best—occasionally gives way to frustrated snippets of sarcasm. I spend a lot of time playing solitaire (the old fashioned way, with a deck of cards) to pass the time. After all, there’s only so much of social media and the news one can stand. I stopped counting games played at 103.

For a brief time, there was a glimmer of hope of having visitors: our daughter and grandkids were going to come down for a few days. But then, of all things, a tropical storm (Cristobal) formed in the Gulf of Mexico and had Kingsland in its direct path, so those plans had to be scrapped. We were deluged with rain and wind all day Monday. Being isolated being seems to be the only thing in my foreseeable future.

One of these days, and I hope it’s soon, we’ll return to Dallas, retrieve the RV, and head to Kentucky. We haven’t cancelled our 4th of July reservation in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula yet, but the longer this limbo goes on, the more likely that will have to happen. I hope it doesn’t come down to that, but like much of this year has been, the unexpected has been the norm. Time will tell. Frankly, I think I’m just going to eliminate the word “plans” from of my vocabulary.

I’m sure it’s not going to be good news for Dave to learn that I’ve been thinking of Stephen King’s psychological thriller, “The Shining,” way too much. But what else is a city girl to do? Ten days here is eight days too many.

Believe me, I hope the next blog is packed with a lot more excitement than this one! But I didn’t want you to think we left Bandera and just dropped off the face of the earth. Well, I guess in a way, we have. I’ll just leave it this way: If there isn’t an update in a month or so, call 911.

Love and hugs, Maria