Looking back over the past few months of bloglessness, I
see two other noteworthy travel junkets on my calendar. The first was during Spring Break in
mid-March. My wife and I talked
about—and even weighed and measured—some truly exotic options for a
getaway. But we ended up in . . .
Lubbock, Texas. Huh?!
Okay, it’s where my wife’s folks live, and we were overdue
for a visit. The timing was right—so
why not? As usual—no, I’m not
being facetious!—we had a great visit with the in-laws. And we had a great time altogether deep
in the heart of west Texas.
Inevitably, the visit included some fine food—none finer than at Picante’s,
the “authentic Mexican” restaurant owned and cheffed by brother-in-law Jaime. .
. . Also, I bought a dandy pair of
cowboy boots!
But the added feature to this visit included a side trip
that I had somehow never thought to make on my previous visits to Lubbock—a pilgrimage
to the grave of legendary rock ’n’ roller Buddy Holly. He was born and reared (as the locals
would say) in Lubbock and, as the photos below document, is fondly remembered
there via a small but wonderful museum and a larger-than-lifesize statue at the
West Texas Music Wall of Fame.
His gravesite is what it is: he is buried next to his father (note the spelling of the family name) in an ordinary public cemetery. I was pleased with how I caught myself casting a shadow literally—not figuratively!—over his grave, where my mother-in-law and I each left a guitar pick on the gravestone as a gesture of admiration for an iconic musician whose catalog of hits is part of the soundtrack of life.
Stay tuned (as it were) for the other travel junket I
alluded to at the top of this post.
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