Oh, rural America, with your banners and flags and can-do spirit.
(I can actually only vouch for the banner and the flags.)
Historical Note: this was one of my first post-knee-surgery photos. I was using a cane, which was tethered to my left wrist. My camera was tethered to my right wrist. And I was walking down the middle of a brick street. My physical therapist would have been proud (let’s assume), as I was definitely making an effort to get back to my normal activities.
That day we drove home, I got fidgety and bored. I was tired, too. And cranky. Yes! I must have been just a JOY to travel with.
Anyway, I decided to shoot some intentionally blurry photos as we drove through Brownwood. It didn’t necessarily make me less fidgety, bored, tired, or crazy, but it diverted my attention from all that stuff for a few minutes.
I’m just guessing, using many context clues, that those posted membership rates could be negotiable.
(I used to have a job that was awful for many, many reasons. One of the reasons was the sexist boss, who would take the male employees out golfing on a routine basis. The women? Nope. We never got invited. My work friend and I decided to address the issue by taking golf lessons, talking about it all the time at work, and acting as though we actually liked golf. We thought that might shift the balance a little bit. It did, too, only not quite the way we’d anticipated: she got transferred out of state and I got fired. But anyway, along about that same time, my son and I played at this little course several times. My son is hilarious and so our golf games were…uh…unorthodox. And we had a hell of a good time, more fun that was ever possible if I’d to play with that sexist boss and his enablers. So things worked out.) (Also, right after I got fired from that job – which I didn’t even like – I landed my current job, which is the best job I’ve ever had. So, again, things worked out.)