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Taken
on the Road by Charles Kuraltby James Feagin
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1986, my parents had returned from their weekly rounds to the local
bookstore in Columbia, Maryland. Sifting through their variety of
books, I came across a title that would change my young life, “On
the Road with Charles Kuralt.” I’m not quite sure why that book fascinated
me so much, however, at 10 years of age, every page and story impressed
upon my mind the vast expanse of America. I recall reading a story
about Mentone/Loving
County Texas, the tiny population, a people who lived amongst it all,
and I wondered. I would often stay up late into the night, look at
my ceiling, and try to conceive what life was like in these places.
Where do people work, shop, go to school, play? What were their homes
like? Thousands of images danced through my youthful imagination.
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| On
the Road with Charles Kuralt |
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That
Christmas I asked my parents for an Atlas, so I could explore this
world through reading. My wish was granted, and I studied my Rand
McNally Atlas for weeks and years. I found far-flung destinations,
researched their populations, memorized locations, and thought of
the possibilities. For some reason I felt a special connection to
the people of Texas, a concept which was vaguely understood, but deeply
felt. As the years mounted, that connection to people and places never
waned, and a blessing that will never stop giving entered into my
life.
I was called to serve a two-year mission for the Church of Jesus Christ
of Latter-day Saints. With over 300 missions throughout the world,
I could have been assigned to any of them. Imagine my joy when I was
called to serve the people of Texas! From October 2000 to October
2002, I traveled to every corner of West
Texas. Each turn in the road was a fulfillment of a dream, as
the people I came to love as a child became reality. Small-town Americana,
their virtues, culture, wisdom; I was able to live it. Step by step,
cities that I imagined became my places of service. From Texhoma
to Van Horn, and
each dot on the map between were covered. In each city I took meticulous
mental and study notes, and made sure to speak to as many residents
as possible. Upon leaving a city, I would take a photograph to commemorate
the event.
A particular hobby came in the landmarks of the city that left the
greatest impression on me, particularly the water
towers of West Texas. These giant tin emblems of endurance hover
over small dusty towns in a regal, almost protective light. They are
historic symbols of community pride, a comforting welcome upon entering
town, a legacy for generations who stayed through it all in their
beloved city. It is my honor to share some of these memories with
you. |
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