Essays

Moseying: Living La Vida Llanero

Bringing a brother home – landmarks, memories, and the sense of place
September 27, 2006

“I want you to move back to Midland,” I told my brother, Roy. He has not lived here since he left for college in 1965. Both he and Debby spent most of their working careers in the computer industry. Roy worked on widely varied software projects that included air traffic control, aircraft simulators, and automated phone systems. For the past decade they have been raising calves for the dairy industry. Roy is a very handy fellow – he built his own house and barns, fixed his tractors, and rebuilt old cars.

That is why I want him to move back to Midland. Deborah bought an old house and we need some of his skills in refurbishing it. At least, that was the catalyst – but I realize there is a deeper need. It is all about family – to have him nearby would be having our lives come full circle. Roy and Debby could live in “family” property – and with Midland’s low unemployment, they could probably find jobs that would keep some money rolling in until Social Security kicks in.

Folks that live northeast of town, along the eastern part of Loop 250, might remember an old concrete block structure that for years had a metal dome on it. He and other Lee High School students built an astronomical observatory there. (They first built one on Neely Street, just east of the school, on family property.) Over the last couple of years several members of that Astronomy Club have dropped by the Sibley Nature Center to find out whatever happened to him – to hear his life story. As people reach the “double nickel mark,” there is a natural inclination to reconnect with their youth and the people with whom they shared it.

Like all younger brothers, I tagged along. I remember being with the Astronomy Club and plotting meteors – stretched out on cots, staring up at the sky, recording the trajectory, color and location of each meteor. I remember philosophical discussions during nights of stargazing – many members of the club took History of Western Thought and physics classes together.

I have tons of great memories of my brother in our childhood. I remember being “pesky” at times, wanting to be with him and his girlfriend when they did not want company. Roy once mapped Midland, riding all over town on his bicycle, back when only 15,000 people lived here, and I remember being with him once when some big dogs came barking and growling and scared me. We used to play “knee football” – crawling around on our knees. I learned how to be a baseball catcher from him.

Being brothers, we have some interests in common that were nurtured in us by our parents – photography, camping, and the rural lifestyle. He was influenced by skills needed on a ranch or farm – constructing, fixing, and creating (from scratch) what he might need. He had a working pedal tractor as a kid, then built underground forts in the sanddunes of the Neely property, and built a steam engine before building the observatories. The old family albums are full of pictures of us in the Colorado and New Mexico mountains, his varied constructions, of both us playing baseball on our own baseball field, and our own photographs of the Neely street property.

Everybody “owns” his or her personal landscape. We all see our area of residence differently. We navigate our lives by where we shop or work, or where our kids need to go for sports or classes, or our friends’ houses. I have lived here for all but seven years of my life. Like my brother, I left after high school, but I came back. He rarely came to visit, and usually only came to the airport, the road to our parent’s house, and the house itself. The human constructed town landmarks of his childhood and youth have changed.

Landmarks are places of stories. One of our family’s landmarks was the Furr’s cafeteria. We used to take my father’s mother there every Friday evening. (She lived with us.) Today’s Furr’s is not quite the same, even though it is at the same location. Lee High School has changed in its appearance. Our old homeplace is now the location of the Unitarian and Lutheran churches. Cowden Park no longer has a baseball field in the bottom of the playa, as it did when Roy played Little League. Christensen Stadium, when Roy played there, was rundown and a decaying symbol of the glory days of minor-league baseball.

The natural world is a constant, however. We still have mesquite and tumbleweed. We still have hot summers, pleasant winters, and perfect fall weather. We still have glorious wildflower years. We still have sandhill cranes trumpeting the glories of their winter home. The southern end of the Llano Estacado is still wide-open ranching country, and now has even more species of critters and plants than when he left. A person can still see the Milky Way in the night sky.

I believe that Roy’s self-starting and creative ways began because he was raised in “The Land of the High Sky” where “The Sky is the Limit.” His independent spirit and strong work ethic, I believe, is a product of growing up among men and women that wrested a living from the land and that developed the oilfields of West Texas. His involvement with cattle must have been influenced by childhood visits to McElroy Ranch roundups, as well as his grandfather’s tales of his ranching career. (Our dad’s father lived with us, too –but he died before I was born.)

Like many Americans, Roy worked in places all over the map. He and Debbie finally settled in and owned 100 acres near Kaufman, Texas for almost two decades, finally selling it as the Metroplex grew his way. I believe it would be good for them to settle in again, for the duration, here. Midland is a good place to live. A person can still get to any part of town within fifteen minutes. World-class medical services are available. We have the world’s best sunsets. And, it is good to be near family. Come on home, bro!