The thoughts, ideas and unanswered questions that have eventually led to this site’s creation have been with me for a long time, years in fact. They arise on my way from Dallas to Lubbock–a drive I’ve taken many, many times–or any long journey that takes me far out of the cities and into the country. For those who’ve spent time in the Western or Southwestern US, a drive of five or six hours or even more, is not that big of a deal. Some, like me, actually look forward to these trips. The long and lonely stretches give you a chance to think things through. And the occasional town or gas station seems to appear on the horizon just in time to keep you from overthinking those very same things.
I stop to fill up. Say “Hello” to the person at the register. I buy a cup of coffee. Weak, of course, but hot. Where do they go when they finish their shift, I wonder. To their home, stupid–I answer my own question. But do they live around here? What’s it like to live around here? Do they like it? I want to know, but it’s best not to pry. Better stick to ‘normal’ questions. “Next time I’m through here, where’s the best place to eat? Is that barbecue place any good? It’s alright? Okay. Thanks, see you later” I say, knowing I probably never will.
I head back to my car as someone else, from somewhere else, is pulling in. I wonder where they’re going–maybe they wonder that about me as well. Or not. Either way, you’ll never, ever, know. Not that it matters, I guess. But it does matter, and I would like to know. But then, you’re driving away, at 70 miles an hour, while that clerk is still there, tending the register, sweeping the floor, stocking the shelves, turning out the lights, locking up…
So one reason to build this site, a selfish one no doubt, is that I’m simply tired of not knowing the answers to at least a few of these kinds of questions; I’m tired of possibly missing out on stories that might be interesting, or funny, or boring as hell, or tragic; of not knowing what it’s like to live there, or where the locals eat, or if there’s a town gossip (of course there is); I’m tired of not knowing where that other traveler was going, and whether or not they remember, even 30 minutes later, anything at all about the place, other than next time through they should stop somewhere else for coffee.
What strikes me is the variety and the richness of the stories that could be told about the people and places along nearly every single mile of this 325 mile route from Dallas to Lubbock; a near infinite number I suppose, especially when you consider the historical ones, layered one one atop the next, from past to present.
I’m headed west on Highway 380, near Newcastle. Beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon, low 70s–uncharacteristically warm for late January, cattle grazing leisurely on both sides of the highway. But if you had been traveling through here in the autumn of 1864–on October 13th, to be exact–you would have come across a very different scene, a tragically violent scene where 12 people died, six kidnapped, and thousands of cattle stolen during the Indian Raid on Elm Creek, as described by the historical marker that stands here today. Some excavation might turn up some buried shell casings or other artifacts, but I for one don’t need any physical ‘proof’ to already feel the reality of this place, both present and past.
I imagine a kind of radio, that by turning the dial, would allow us to tune in, not just to different frequencies, but to different times. We could listen to the ‘news’ of today, and by turning the dial back, tune in to the sounds of the construction crew as they built this road, or farther back still, to hear the screams and gunfire that erupted on this very spot back in 1864. And how far into the future would we have to tune, to hear languages other than our own, or sounds altogether unintelligible?
A less selfish reason for building this site, then, is to honor the memories, by telling the stories, of those who came through here before us, including those who erected the historical marker above, in 1964, including Mr. George Terrell and Mrs. J. W. Bullock of Newcastle, Texas, and Dr. Kenneth Franklin Neighbors, historian and marking chairman of the Young County Survey Committee. Their long-ago efforts, and their still-felt presence add to the ever-unfolding, ever-layering story of this place.