Correspondence

You Can’t Get There From Here

Letter From Texas

The sun is shining on a typical warm day.  I roll my sleeves up, let the window down, and watch the train go by.  The battered Union Pacific, Southern Pacific, and Santa Fe boxcars roll past, clackity-clacking and swaying just a little on their way to “Cow Town.”

Then they are gone, so I turn up the CD player.  A guitar strums and Texas singer/songwriter Bruce Robison tells an old story:

You can’t get there from here

You can’t live on bread and water


You heard the one about the farmer’s daughter?

She just needs a little atmosphere


You don’t pick your occupation,

I didn’t ask for this frustration


I need a life and an ice-cold beer

And you can’t get there from here . . .

So many broken dreams in the world.  So much unhappiness.  But what can I do about it?  What can any of us do?

Something about the Texas troubadour’s sad words jogs my memory.  I was at the grocery store.  I usually just hurry through, picking up a little of this or that, and head over to the express checkout line. ...

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