In Texas, the land of my birth, there’s this crazy unincorporated community called Kingsland.
My Dad and step mother moved there four years ago after a quarter century in upstate New York. She said it was only fair to bring dad back closer to his people since he spent 25 years shovelling snow amongst her people. I thought that was sweet, and noble.
They chose Kingsland since it was close to his brother, and near the place my grandparents lived before they died.
Most Texans don’t even know about Kingsland, or where it’s located. When you say “in the hill country” or “near Marble Falls” or lastly “By Lake LBJ outside of Austin”, then it rings a bell.
Kingsland is this weird mix of wealthy lake resort with a subtle lawlessness vibe on the edge of a ghetto.
It’s total Texas. Everyone is suspicious of the government. Everyone is convinced someone’s out to get them.
My Dad’s neighbor is probably one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. That’s quite a statement. I’ve met lots of interesting people.
Doug is in his 60’s, living in an inherited run-down property from his late grand parents. He is very mechanically gifted and once worked for a professional sign installation company.
His Rottweiler guards the property, which includes his hand-built 4 story tower decorated with business signs he collected from his former job. The signs and the entire tower light up at night.
And one side of the tower used to light up with the word TRUMP during a previous election.
I gathered that most neighbors hate Doug due to his crazy circus looking property. But Doug and Dad get along great.
The most interesting part about meeting Doug has nothing to do with his tower or exterior decor. It’s his rock collection. He finds rocks that appear like the face of an alien or some other obvious image. And he’s convinced that aliens have hid them around the earth for us people to find and admire.
Whatever works.
The more I am away from Texas, the harder it is for me to return. The Canadian culture has embedded itself into my aging DNA. And I feel as though most aspects of my life were simply embraced by my northern adapted homeland. As in, I was already more Canadian-like to begin with. And thus maybe getting out of Texas helped me secure this? I never cared for Texas and its conservative paranoia politics or environmental rape-a-thons.
But I could use a few more Dougs in my life. And I haven’t found any in Canada.
I hadn't heard of Kingsland before. This guy must be the unofficial mayor.