Monthly Archives: June 2013
The cemetery
The historical marker at this cemetery says, “The history of this community cemetery dates to 1854 when 18-year-old Rebecca Chambers died and was buried here. Rebecca, who reportedly was ill while traveling past here with the family of her sister and brother-in-law, Nancy and E. G. Evans, asked to be buried on this flower-covered hillside. While the land was vacant public domain several other burials took place. There are about 65 early graves marked only by rocks.”
Something about a girl telling her family where she wanted to be buried haunted me the day I read the sign, and still sticks with me, and makes me want to post a dark and moody shot. Even though Rebecca Chambers saw it when the hill was covered in flowers.
Smithwick Cemetery
Burnet County, Texas
photographed 3.9.2013
Fenced in. Or out.
I like this fence. I like it lot.
My favorite part is that it’s not regular chain link. It’s a series of Ms, or Vs, or Ws – depending on where you start. I’m no fence historian, but I think that means this is old.
My other favorite part is that it’s not that effective – standing wide open and all – but that it takes it job seriously enough to keep doing it.
Marfa, Texas
photographed 1.18.2013
The Chair
A blogger pal of mine has written a short story to go along with my photograph “The Cemetery Chair.” I appreciate her work on the story, and hope you’ll like it, too!
The Dairy Queen
I went to college in a town that was an eight hour drive from home (In a Pinto. In a Pinto without an air conditioner. But that’s another topic). A drive that long required several restroom breaks, and small town Dairy Queens were the preferred place to stop. We’d skip the one in Post, as it was only 45 minutes away, but Sweetwater, Abilene, Eastland, Dublin, Hico, Meridian, Waco, Hearne, all the way to College Station – we knew ’em all. Of course, protocol demanded (Yes! Demanded. Protocol doesn’t “suggest.”) that we make a purchase when we stopped. So we’d get a Coke (in the vernacular, “Coke” referenced any carbonated beverage), thus ensuring yet another stop at another Dairy Queen somewhere further down the road.
But they weren’t there just for travelers. Dairy Queens were popular with residents in those little towns we drove through. The Rotary Club might meet there, or the Lions. Most teenagers worked there, and all of them hung out there. Families went there after church, or before a football game. The DQs would be decorated in the school colors, with mascot names painted on the windows. They were so much a part of town it was hard to imagine that someday they’d disappear.
Here’s an article from The Atlantic that’s got some photographs of Texas Dairy Queens.
This one, though, has gone away. It won’t return. You can tell by looking.
Earth, Texas
photographed 5.24.2013
An unfortunate name
I don’t think choosing a name that includes the word “fear” was a good idea for a hair salon, but maybe I am just being too sensitive.
Am I missing a hair-related pun? You know, something along the lines of The Hair Em, Julius Scissor Hair Design, or Hair Force One (all actual names)?
Or am I still freaking out from that one bad perm back in the 80s? (Also: is the term “bad perm” redundant? What about “bad pun”? Also redundant? Judges?)
Clovis, New Mexico
photographed 5.25.2013
One Day | One Image 