Blog Archives

as the sun sets on another dying town

Someone’s big dreams landed here, in the early 1900s. The town was platted, named then renamed, and there was a post office, a general store and hotel, a blacksmith shop, and a church or two, and even according to one account, a doctor – all there in hopes of benefiting from the future railroad. And then (you know how this goes), the railroad failed to materialize. The town hung on for a while but started to fade away.

The official population of the place is listed at 10.

Vigo Park, Texas
photographed 12.26.2019

Snarling Window

Without going into all the details*, back in college my friend Alice and I used to pretend we were from Alice, Texas, where we’d lived (of course!) on Melinda Street.

Until last week, I’d never actually been to Alice, Texas, and while I was there I looked to see if there was, in fact, a Melinda Street**. I didn’t find one, but I did locate a very photogenic abandoned house.

Alice, Texas
photographed 11.23.2019

*Because the only details I can remember are too embarrassing to commit to publication.
**My cousins’ last name was Street, but none of them were named Melinda.

Chris: RIP

There is definitely a story here. It’s just that I don’t know what it is.

And, really, even without Chris RIP on the wall, the very name of the place – Boss Office Bar – is a story, too.

Lubbock, Texas
photographed 11.16.2019


While I am not necessarily admitting to anything, the reason there are no people in the picture (other than the fact that it’s a photo that I took) is that they were all attending conference sessions, like obedient little convention attendees.

Ernest N. Morial Convention Center
New Orleans, Louisiana
photographed 4.22.2018

tilting away from religion

If you use the definition of ghost town as “so far off the beaten path that there’s no Google street view”, this place fits the criteria.

If you use the definition of ghost town as “located ten miles from the nearest paved road”, this place fits the criteria.

If you use the definition of ghost town as “there were more owls than there were people”, this place fits the criteria.

If you use the definition of ghost town as “places my dad mentioned from his boyhood but that I can’t recall what he said exactly”, this place fits the criteria.

But then: it still has a post office. The ZIP code is 81080, and apparently there’s been a post office there since 1889. (Open weekdays from 10:30 to 12:30, and 8:30 to 10:30 on Saturday.)

And there’s also this church, with the cross taking a decided tilt toward the north. (“What does the inside of the church look like?” you should be asking yourself. Good thing I can help with that totally not at all self-serving sentence.)

Trinchera, Colorado
photographed 9.5.2016

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