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Boy, Howdy!
My hamburger was so-so, so I spent much of my time averting my eyes from it's greasy onions and watery mustard. My migratory gaze fell on a stocky, middle-aged man just as he noisily scooted back his chair and homed in on my booth, frowning all the way. He slid in bedside me.
"You the guy that writes that Cedar Gap thing?"
I pointed at my mouth as if I'd just taken a bite, then swigged some iced tea. That gave me a few seconds to size up a man who would wear a classic 1968 lime-green polyester leisure suit with orange piping to a hamburger joint. I mean, you could spill ketchup or Co'Cola on such a classic, and in a trice--we're talking an extremely short trice--totally destroy something that could not be replaced. A man so lacking in judgment could easily be a serial murderer.
"Well, are ya?"
"Uh, yeah," I said. Fortunately, I'm at my voluble best under such pressure. The words just pour out.
"Why'dja change their names?"
I'd expected several other phrases. "Like your stories," came to mind. Or, "I got this great yearn about my dog you oughta hear." Or, "I'll be shooting ya now." But definitely not something about name changes.
"What?" I said. The glib Silver Tongue of the Brazos flapped on.
"Listen, I know personally ever' one a those people you been writing about down there in Cedar Gap, an' I just gotta know why you changed all a their names?"
"Well, actually ... "
"It's them lawyers, ain't it?"
"Well, actually ... "
"It's OK, I can hold a secret."
"Well, actually ... "
"I knew it!" He winked broadly. "Tell ya what. You just keep on with them made-up names, and only me an' you'll know the real truth." He grunted as he pushed himself out of the narrow booth.
Since it appeared I would survive to finish my lackluster meal, as a reward I gave him my best John Le Carre conspiratorial smirk. He frowned and squinted, not quite understanding. I saw I had to say something positive.
"Like your outfit."
"Like your stories." He winked again and swaggered back to his chicken-fried steak.
There's a sermon lurking in there somewhere.
Originally the stories in Boy, Howdy! were published Saturdays in the Abilene, Texas, Reporter-News as the CEDAR GAP CHRONICLES. With this book, which was originally published by Texas Tech University Press, the second year of the 750-word columns have been gathered into loose-jointed chapters, separated by a few un-assignable stories that didn't fit into any particular chapter. Enjoy.
And if you did enjoy the book, you might like another one of my books. Just punch CEDAR GAP BOOKS into your browser, and you should get my web page. The field of bluebonnets is actually my front yard. Eat your heart out.
"You the guy that writes that Cedar Gap thing?"
I pointed at my mouth as if I'd just taken a bite, then swigged some iced tea. That gave me a few seconds to size up a man who would wear a classic 1968 lime-green polyester leisure suit with orange piping to a hamburger joint. I mean, you could spill ketchup or Co'Cola on such a classic, and in a trice--we're talking an extremely short trice--totally destroy something that could not be replaced. A man so lacking in judgment could easily be a serial murderer.
"Well, are ya?"
"Uh, yeah," I said. Fortunately, I'm at my voluble best under such pressure. The words just pour out.
"Why'dja change their names?"
I'd expected several other phrases. "Like your stories," came to mind. Or, "I got this great yearn about my dog you oughta hear." Or, "I'll be shooting ya now." But definitely not something about name changes.
"What?" I said. The glib Silver Tongue of the Brazos flapped on.
"Listen, I know personally ever' one a those people you been writing about down there in Cedar Gap, an' I just gotta know why you changed all a their names?"
"Well, actually ... "
"It's them lawyers, ain't it?"
"Well, actually ... "
"It's OK, I can hold a secret."
"Well, actually ... "
"I knew it!" He winked broadly. "Tell ya what. You just keep on with them made-up names, and only me an' you'll know the real truth." He grunted as he pushed himself out of the narrow booth.
Since it appeared I would survive to finish my lackluster meal, as a reward I gave him my best John Le Carre conspiratorial smirk. He frowned and squinted, not quite understanding. I saw I had to say something positive.
"Like your outfit."
"Like your stories." He winked again and swaggered back to his chicken-fried steak.
There's a sermon lurking in there somewhere.
Originally the stories in Boy, Howdy! were published Saturdays in the Abilene, Texas, Reporter-News as the CEDAR GAP CHRONICLES. With this book, which was originally published by Texas Tech University Press, the second year of the 750-word columns have been gathered into loose-jointed chapters, separated by a few un-assignable stories that didn't fit into any particular chapter. Enjoy.
And if you did enjoy the book, you might like another one of my books. Just punch CEDAR GAP BOOKS into your browser, and you should get my web page. The field of bluebonnets is actually my front yard. Eat your heart out.
127 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 15, 1990
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