Maudlin

A number of you reminded me that I forgot Friday’s Brew of the Day. So today’s blog will end with Friday’s BOTD. (This actually works out well, since I could not find a single local brewpub during today’s travels.)

But first, let’s look at today’s travels, which began early with a beautiful Texas sunrise.

One of the fortunate aspects of driving these lesser US highways (instead of the interstates) is that you don’t have to choose when to exit the freeway to check out a town. Instead, US 70 takes you right down the main street of each town, whether you want to go there or not.

Several of my experiences today had an air of the maudlin about them, starting with the town of Paducah, Texas (population: 1,000). Paducah is what I would call I dying city. In fact, it’s barely on life support. In fact, when I first entered the town, I figured it was a ghost town. Check out these photos:

But as I drove around I saw a few signs of life, as the handful of remaining residents try desperately to keep the town from collapsing entirely. Someone had hung some lonely Christmas decorations on the city hall, and an ancient feed store appeared to still be open for business. But for the most part, the streets, and the buildings, were empty. I fear that, if I were to come through here again in a couple of years, even the small signs of life I witnessed would be gone. Or, even worse, the remaining residents might make a desperate effort to rejuvenate the local economy by knocking down these wonderful, unique old buildings and putting in a new WalMart or a Dollar General.

The maudlin mood intensified when I stopped for lunch in Lone Grove, OK. As is my habit during these stops, I asked the waitress what the town is known for. She thought about it for a moment and said “nothing, really.” I asked about the size of the town’s population, and she couldn’t even guess at the number. “It’s just a small, country town.” When I asked if she grew up here, she scoffed. She grew up in Houston, and moved here for some kind of business opportunity. It dried up after a year and a half, so now she’s waiting tables at this diner. Do you want to go back to Texas, I asked. “In a heartbeat. But I don’t have the money, and I don’t have a job lined up.” I wished her a happy new year as a left.

Later, I found myself in Ardmore, OK (population: 25,000). My eye was caught by a garish pink structure that at first reminded me of the Madonna Inn near San Luis Obispo. But it turned out to be an indescribable bazaar of miscellaneous, kitchy junk. It’s called “Cloverleaf.”

I entered on a whim, and was greeted by the owner, who was standing behind a counter in front of an amateurish painting of a reclining nude. It’s the kind of thing you’d expect to see in a brothel. Or so I’m told.

The owner, whose name is Heidi, asked how she could help me. When I told her I was just browsing she informed me that technically they’re out of business. But since I was here I could look around. Instead, I asked her to give me the story of the place. She’s a self-described “junker” who bought this property 20 years ago to sell and trade her many truckloads of junk. But her husband is now ill with Parkinson’s, and she’s retiring to take care of him. Major buyers already came through and bought up all the good stuff. “All that’s left is true junk, and I’ll probably throw it away.” She sadly showed me a postcard of how the place used to look before the sell-off.

Heidi seemed genuinely sad to be quitting. “It’s not my choice, but it’s what I need to do.” It’s interesting, I thought, that the waitress in Lone Grove was stuck in a job and a place she didn’t like, while Heidi was saddened because she has to leave this job and this place. I guess nobody’s ever really happy with whatever they have. The grass is always greener…

But today was not all sad stories. As regular readers of this blog have learned, trains are another key aspect of my road trips. And today I encountered two restored train depots and a restored steam locomotive. Please indulge me by checking these out:

In the late afternoon I was getting a little sleepy, so I stopped for a cup of coffee in Durant, OK (population: 16,000). Opera House Coffee is a coffee house situated in a large building built in 1901 that was home to the Wilson Opera House until about 1915. Since that time it’s served as a post office and various other businesses, until its conversion to this coffee house about 2 years ago. One wishes that all cool, historic buildings like this could similarly find viable uses like this. How is it that Durant has found the right formula, but Paducah has not?

I ended the day’s travels in town of Hugo, OK (population: 5,300). The town is named after Victor Hugo, and over the years has served as the winter headquarters for many traveling circuses. Today it is still home to three circuses, and its cemetery is the final resting place for a number of circus performers. In fact, the old timers called Hugo “Circus City USA.” All this I learned from my waitress at Angie’s Circus City Diner, which is a circus-and-clown-themed restaurant where I had a bloody ribeye steak with onion rings.

Alas, Angie’s is a kid-friendly place, and they don’t serve beer. So, I’ll leave you with yesterday’s Brew of the Day.

BREW OF THE (YESTER)DAY

On Friday I stopped at a new brewpub in Roswell called Red Door . It’s located in an old train station, and I was one of only two patrons there at the time. This is the fourth Red Door opened in New Mexico by its owner, Jeff Hart, and it’s only been open about a month.

The bartender, Lindsey, insisted that I try a half-dozen samples before she’d let me order a pint. I think she wanted to show off their extensive range of beers (which was indeed impressive).

I settled on something with the mouth-watering name “Raining Blood.” It’s an Imperial Red Ale, which means it’s a red ale with an ABV of 9 percent. The beer had a pretty light mouthfeel, and a resinous (but not too hoppy) flavor. It wasn’t bad, but I expect something with the adjective “imperial” in its name to be “bigger.” And yet, the fried jalapeno caps that Lindsey brought me as a snack totally made up for any shortcomings with the beer.