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Writer's pictureStephen C. Savage

Letter from the Road #6

West Texas


I left Austin early in the morning for what was anticipated to be my longest single day drive to date. At the outset of the adventure I had established a five hour time limit that I would allow myself to be behind the wheel. According to Google Maps I had 429 miles and seven hours of driving ahead of me. My destination, Marfa, Texas. Marfa, for those unfamiliar with it, is the West Texas outpost of modern minimalist artists first colonized 30 some years ago. It was, also, the location for filming Edna Ferber’s epic novel Giant. More on Marfa later, but first the drive.


Leaving Austin, I immediately found myself in the Hill Country initially made famous as the location for LBJ’s ranch. Undulating hills populated with cattle and wild flowers made for a welcome change from highly urbanized Austin and Dallas. I was especially appreciative of Lady Bird Johnson’s highway beautification initiative. We can thank Lady Bird for the elimination of vulgar billboards from the sides of federally supported highways. The ranch, now a public park and conference center, was wrapped in a rich palate of pastel colored wild flowers. As I passed by the former Johnson Ranch, I tipped my hat to Mrs. Johnson for her important legacy.


Just before hopping onto I-10, I stopped in Fredericksburg. Fredericksburg is as picture perfect a western town as you could ever hope to find. Most likely owing its neat as a pin, well organized and understated appearance to its German roots. Specialty stores and cafes lined the main thoroughfare. I wandered around an antique auto show staged in the public square. The antique cars reminded me of the plastic car models I built in my youth. Interesting fun fact, Admiral Nimitz, leader of the allied Pacific forces in World War II hailed from Fredericksburg.



Embarking on I-10, I once again had this overwhelming impression of vast endless space. The fields went on forever merging in the distant horizon with a crystal clear blue sky. This picture evolved to stark high desert in varying hues of beige interrupted by magnificent rust colored rock formations. Thinking I would be bored driving across Texas, instead I was grateful. I loved the drive and was totally in awe of God’s creation.



The drive itself was easy. I am the kind of driver that paces himself with the faster drivers. Usually not the leader, but tracking one or two cars behind. However, often on this leg I found myself as the only driver in sight thus having no other driver to follow or with whom to pace myself. Glancing at the speedometer I was shocked to see I was cruising along at 105 miles an hour. I repeatedly throttled back, not wanting to unnecessarily make acquaintances with the highway patrol. As it turned out, the trip to Marfa was not my longest day of driving. I think we know why.


Marfa - Back in the USSR


In the era of Detente between the US and the USSR a flood of Soviet films came to New York. Sophisticated New Yorkers would stand in art house cinema lines to purchase tickets to these novel works of cinematography. Embarrassed to admit the film was awful, movie goers would emerge from the film, telling people standing in line that the film was a must see, perpetuating a myth. In truth, no one understood the appeal because there was no appeal. That’s exactly how I felt about Marfa. I didn’t get it. My supposition is prior visitors felt duped and didn’t want to admit being duped. After all, they were members of the sophisticate’s tribe. So when asked about Marfa, they reenforced the misperception by saying like others did regarding Soviet era films, Marfa was a must see. Now that leaves me with a dilemma. As a wannabe sophisticate, do I risk membership by going public with my conclusions or do I conform and perpetuate the myth? Read on for the answer.



The few galleries that were open displayed what I deemed mediocre works of art. Mostly dull and exhibiting minimal effort, the art provided little visual pleasure or stimulation except to have inspired me to write a scathing critique. (For my new and sadly, soon to be former Marfa followers, pardon my candor. Feel free to return the favor with fervor. Hint, start with my punctuation.) The Judd Foundation and the Chinati Foundation run and own a vast majority of the commercial space and vacant land in and around town. In a way you could say it has become a company town, that eventually stifled innovation and growth. Marfa is truly in need of liberation. When Judd, died in 1994 the original vision and passion died with him, I would argue. Consequently, this is why Marfa is ripe for a disruptor to free it of the foundation’s shackles.


Being a bit silly, history recounts disruptors are often exiled to far off places. Napoleon was exiled to Elba upon his abdication. Perhaps our modern day disruptor-in-chief could find new opportunity in Marfa. It has hotels, casinos near by and needs a golf course. I’m confident he would see the opportunity but not so confident we can effect his removal. Perhaps taking a page from his 2016 campaign, recalling his chant “Lock her up.” How about the democrats chant: “Pack your bags” and “Make Marfa great again!” to pave the way for his exile.


All kidding aside, I liked the town. It had scale, mixed architecture, logical city layout, and good hotels. I could imagine it returning to a bustling West Texas town similar to the era in which Giant was filmed. I was especially grateful to learn it had a Dairy Queen. I was surprised to learn how expensive homes were. Zillow listed 3 properties on the market asking more than $1.2 million. The three properties appeared to be makeovers of homes built prior to WW11. Their design, while contemporary, lacked modern amenities such as swimming pools. $350,000 felt closed to the mark.


West Texas was where I first encountered the U.S. Border Patrol. They were omnipresent in the first 100 miles north of the border. Besides seeing their green and white vehicles everywhere, I passed through 2 Border Patrol check points at which agents examined my car looking for undocumented visitors. In each instance the agent appeared to be of Latino heritage as did his colleagues at the checkpoint. This agency along with ICE have taken a lot of abuse for their mission and the manor in which they execute their duties. The agents that I met were courteous, professional and efficient. I scratched my head and thought this is not what I was expecting. Weren’t they supposed to be big, burly oppressors? I was proud of these public servants handling their duties professionally while under the microscope. I wondered if this would be true in El Paso. Maybe there I would witness something more aligned to the reporting on the evening news.


Walls That Talk


I formed an opinion about El Paso early in my business career. The company I worked for after college supplied industrial and apparel fasteners to the maquiladora businesses that lined the border. Many of them supported the electronics and automobile manufacturers in the US. These duty free facilities were the first stage in which US businesses sought to reduce their costs by manufacturing off shore. NAFTA and Asia followed providing even greater relief to manufacturers, but at the same time delivering economic devastation to the industrial midwest. Expecting to find a dirty, poverty stricken, and generally challenged region, I found something very different.


El Paso is a modern, prosperous, and clean city supported by a superior infrastructure of roads, rails, and public services. The US-Mexican gateways were uncluttered and attractive. If there was an eyesore, it was the imposing vertical slatted wall and accompanying 100 foot wide pit that runs parallel to the border wall. While I understand and support the need for border protection, the appearance of this wall is vile. It does not communicate our values. It is an affront to the humanistic sensibilities that have served our nation well. I’d rather see Mr. Trump sponsor a contest for a redesign of the wall with the objective of providing a barrier that insures security while intrinsically communicating our values, decency, and generosity. Some might say, a wall is a wall. It doesn’t matter what it looks like. I emphatically disagree with this stance. I say, use your imagination and think of a design for a border that insures security yet provides places for people to gather and learn. Posed as a question, how could the wall become an effective extension of our diplomacy, foreign aid and educational outreach?


The multicultural and upward mobility aspect of El Paso evidenced itself in the most unlikely of locations. By this time I had put almost 4200 miles on the car since departing Florida. I stopped in at the Mercedes dealership to see if they could do a once over of the car to insure it was handling the drive. I shared the waiting room with a young professional Taiwanese father and his three young sons. Also in the waiting room were a Latino couple with three children and an African-American woman with her two children. While the children played with one another, the parents were glued to their iPhones oblivious of each other. Really no different than anywhere else. Diverse, upwardly mobile, building families and the children, unconstrained by their heritage, as they embraced new friendships. I felt optimistic for our future.


I did spend time looking for trouble spots. I drove along approximately 30 miles of border in and around El Paso. I also went to the Immigrant non-profit help agency, Las Americas Immigrant Advocacy Center. There were no obvious incidents or appearance of strife anywhere I drove. Nor were there any lines of people at the agency or Border Patrol vehicles circling. I left El Paso perplexed by the contradictions. I’ll keep looking. But now I had a new question, “what’s fake?”


Magical New Mexico


Your nomadic traveler was feeling a little tired and under the weather by the time he arrived in Santa Fe. Frankly, I should have stayed longer in New Mexico once I was feeling better. The state is truly enchanting. The ride north from El Paso to Santa Fe was spectacular. The rock formations, stratified by nature in a range of colors that completely complimented one another, could not have been assembled any better by a Benjamin Moore paint specialist. I watched storm clouds form over the distant mountains and it reminded me of a quotation that I had recently read about the west in preparation of my adventure. “You can see six or seven thunderstorms going on at the same time. Big sun. Big heat. Big storms. Big everything.”


I passed by a lot of towns that looked as if they had only 100 residents. Some of the towns along the way had unique names. One in particular caught my attention. Truth or Consequences. Curious what a town with a name such as this was like, I pulled off the highway at the Truth or Consequence exit, stopping first to add fuel to my car. While there, a fellow Floridian struck up a conversation, having noticed we both had Florida plates. He was an African American Lieutenant in the U.S. Army. Over the course of the brief conversation, we discovered that we both stopped for the same reason. Curiosity. So I turned to Wikipedia to hopefully satisfy our curiosity. True to form, Wikipedia had the answer. The town was first incorporated as Hot Springs in 1916. It renamed itself as a result of a contest sponsored by the NBC Radio game show and hosted by Ralph Edwards. In 1950, Mr. Edwards announced he would broadcast the show from whatever town was first to rename itself Truth or Consequences. Shortly after the challenge was aired, Hot Springs changed its name, earning the right to host Mr. Edwards broadcast.



Despite my kidney stones, I did do a little sightseeing in Santa Fe. I enjoyed the wide variety of galleries and strolling around the central area where most of them are. The state capitol comfortably shares the central part of town with the galleries. I also caught up with old friends at a lovely restaurant behind the Eldorado where I was staying. On one of my morning walks, unexpectedly, my brain began to think in a new way about our nation’s polarization.




Sometimes the universe communicates messages in a way that is serendipitous to the moment or times. It clearly did during my walk around Santa Fe. Let me paint two images captured on one of these walks. First, the New Mexico State House is a circular building, two stories high. Modest in design and size, it exudes humility and egalitarian simplicity. Imagine a Native American council or a New England town council or even a Quaker assembly seeking to design a building that would be simpatico with their community values and decision making process. I could well imagine that a design team proposing something akin to the New Mexican State House. The second is a small statue of a young adult, shovel in hand, digging. It sits on the edge of the State House property as a reminder of the work of the Civilian Conservation Corps during the depression. CCC was comprised of young adults from a diverse set of backgrounds. They built parks, refurbished buildings and expanded the capacity of publicly owned assets. Most importantly it taught people of different cultural, geographical and economic backgrounds how to live and work with one another.


Rather than draw a conclusion from these two images, let me leave you with two questions inspired by these two images. You can draw your own conclusions.


1. Are our hierarchically structured legislative, administrative and judicial branches optimum in design so as to foster an environment that encourages in LBJ’s words, “Come let us reason together?” In other words, do we need to flatten and broaden our democratic systems of government to bring it closer?


2. How do you promote and perpetuate a common set of values that better enable a more cohesive civic life?


I leave it to you to ponder these questions that I believe are central to reinvigorating our democracy.


Hasta luego.


Next


Loose ends

Launching the return journey

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