Here’s the itinerary for these two days of travel:
One of the reasons for doing this trip, rather than the one up north, was that it gave me a chance to meet my old friend from 40 years ago at The Woodlands, where he was doing a training course of some sort. We spent Monday together, catching up on stories, and reveling in the way old friendships can be rekindled in an instant, regardless of how much time has passed.
My old friend, Aloysius (Luis) Pereira, from Belgaum, India:
In the afternoon, I bade farewell to Aloysius and headed up to Conroe to meet my dear Aunt Ione, cousin Karen, and Karen’s husband Randy. Here’s Conroe:
Montgomery County has been officially recognized by the Texas state legislature as being the birthplace of the inimitable “Lone Star” flag which has flown over the state since 1839 – it was then an independent country.
Scenes in Conroe
Little paintings on a streetside bench:
Had a great dinner in Conroe with my hysterically funny family members, and then overnighted at Cousin Karen’s place up on Lake Conroe, or, Lake Cornrow as I call it.
Next morning, I set out early for the next stop, Coldspring, seat of San Jacinto County. My Aunt Ione lived there for more than 15 years, so we have some family history there, too. On the way there, I ran through the little settlement of Punkin, which is what my Aunt Ione called me when I was little. (She also called me other things, and still does, but Punkin was when I was in the good graces…)
Note that there is a cross above the door to the courthouse in Coldspring, and there are identical ones on all four sides. I’ve been unable to determine definitively whether this is legal, but I don’t find it consistent with one of the characteristics that does make America great, which is separation of church and state. I don’t see a need for ANY religious iconography on state property that is ostensibly in the service of people of all, or no, religion.
From Coldspring to Livingston, seat of Polk County, through the Sam Houston National Forest.
You could interpret this plate in more than one way (I spent decades with the United Nations Development Programme, UNDP), though the fact that the plate is on a Raptor truck suggests that this agenda is not the same as that of my old alma mater.
Breakfast in Livingston
From Livingston to Woodville, seat of Tyler County. Gorgeous landscapes along the way, and clouds indicating (accurately, it turned out) what was in store for me the rest of the day.
In Woodville I discovered to my horror that I had mindlessly gone off and left my tripod in Livingston. It was too far to go back with no assurance that it would even be there, so I came up with Plan B, which was balancing my camera on top of a parking meter post that had been beheaded, and then running through the traffic to the other side of the street, hoping that the camera did not fall off, or that a car would drive into the picture. It took three tries, but I did finally get my Woodville courthouse picture:
So I set out from Woodville as a man on a mission – GET TRIPOD. Leaving Woodville on the way to Kountze (pronounced “coonts”), as the humidity is turning to drizzle – EUREKA! Wal-Mart! I found there a plastic tripod that was too big for my travel case, but thanks to my years as a Boy Scoutmaster, I had bungee cords with me that enabled a very effective strap-down arrangement. With newfound confidence, though still kicking my own backside for having lost my pro-grade tripod, I set off into the rain.
Kountze turned out to be the first in a string of problematic courthouses to photograph. Luckily I had a new tripod to work with. The highway runs right in front of the razor-wire protected courthouse, and in order to photograph the bike, me and the courthouse, I had to get the bike up on the pavement right at the entrance. I’m usually reluctant to try that, for fear that it will attract unfavorable attention from law enforcement (see Huntsville, two days later, for proof that this is not an irrational concern). In this case a law enforcement person happened to come out of the courthouse, and I was able to explain what I intended to do, and got a “no objection”. Even if he had objected, I would have waited until he left and then done it anyway – I could not leave the fair ville of Kountze without the photo! Well, here it is – t’ain’t much, but there’s no doubt about where I am…
From Kountze, now off in a westerly direction to Liberty, seat of the county of the same name. Along the way I spied a trio of miniature horses grazing:
Unlike on the previous trip, where I failed to don my rain gear until I was already soaked, this time I put on the rain gear BEFORE I was soaked. And then I spent most of the next two days putting it on, and taking it off, and putting it on, and taking it off… Why? Think 95 degrees and 100% humidity. If the rain doesn’t get you, the sweat will.
On the next leg, to Anahuac, seat of Chambers County, the rain DID get me, both en route, and then in Anahuac.
Anahuac is apparently a Nahuatl (Aztec) word meaning “close to water”. That fits, as it is right on the Gulf of Mexico. It was never part of the Aztec Empire, it was given the name by Mexico when it controlled the area (prior to Texas independence). Anahuac was the scene of “disturbances” in 1832 and in 1835 that helped precipitate the war for Texas independence. More importantly, Anahuac is the “Alligator Capital of Texas”, and holds an annual Gator Fest. Mark your calendar accordingly.
Anahuac seems to be home to vocal supporters of Trump-Pence and their agenda, in particular the wall:
From Anahuac, I drove a local road parallel to I10 almost all the way to Beaumont, the 4th largest port in the US, and home, or near home, to lots of people, including George Jones (from Vidor), Janis Joplin (Port Arthur), J.P. Richardson (AKA The Big Bopper), sportsman Babe Didrikson Zaharias, and Johnny and Edgar Winter, blues musicians. Jason’s Deli is HQ’d here.
Beaumont is also home to an important branch of my family, where my 2nd cousins still live. When I was a very small boy we used to come visit them from Houston, and marvel at the gracious lifestyle they enjoyed. I had arranged to meet my two cousins upon arrival at the Jefferson County courthouse, which I did and could happily include them in my Beaumont courthouse picture (my cousins are the ladies, Kathy (L) and Ninette (R):
Ninette’s son Charles took Kathy and me up to the 9th floor of his building overlooking Beaumont. These are the views:
This gorgeous home was where my relatives, the Walkers, lived. In the day it was white, and in my recollections it was as if it were Manderley, the fictional home of Rebecca de Winter of the du Maurier book and Hitchcock movie. It is now owned by an oil baron, and though it has changed color, it is still glorious.
My cousin Kathy invited me to overnight with her and husband Pat, and we talked until late about our recollections and our respective genealogical findings. It was a great ending to a great day… Thanks, Kathy and Pat.