Texas or bust
December 4, 2012

I’ve thought for a few days that I would journal the most recent adventure, but it has been easy to defer taking action.  Reasons for that inactivity abound.  Primary among them is that it is not exactly my adventure.  Chris is the one who is away from home, so the journey is mine only in a vicarious way.

I easily discern that it will be beneficial for me in an emotional sense to spend time writing about this episode in our lives, but then I wonder if I should actually post it as a blog.  If so, it will necessarily be without photographs, at least at this juncture, because I am home, camera in hand (well, okay, more like at hand), so for those who consume my travel blogs primarily via pictures, boredom may set in.

For now, I will call this my journal, helpful for me to ease the thoughts swirling in circles, and mayhaps it will be a blog posting, too, albeit more personal than most.

Chris departed these premises last Saturday morning.  What a shocking sight - I stood in the living room watching him drive away in the Toyota Tundra Toter, as we refer to our pickup, pulling our Totee travel trailer.  We waved at each other as he passed the window and I watched until he reached the corner and I could no longer see him.

That departure was the culmination of several months of discussing, planning and researching whether we ought to pursue the possibility of his obtaining employment associated with the oil field boom towns of Midland and Odessa, Texas.

Hoping to allay financial setbacks, our scheme was for him to work there over the winter at wages more lucrative than what is available in our locality.  The alternative seemed to be a whole new full-time career here to get to the same fiscal freedom, but the long-term sense of that was not at all to our liking.  More money, shorter time period: why not give it a try.

Well, now I know why not.  After 33 years together, it is feeling decidedly awful not to be together.

Amarillo be damned - he made it to El Paso the first night and I wanted nothing in the world more at that moment than for him to turn around and come home; the feeling was fairly mutual as we talked on the phone that night.  In the light of the next morning, we agreed that after all we had done to get to that point, it would be absurd not to pursue the goal as best we could.

We knew from contacts that a 64-year-old retired college administrator/archaeologist/geologist/teacher was not going to be among the more common applicants in the oil field industry, but Chris’ physical labor pursuits convinced us he has what it takes.  Convincing someone else, however, is an entirely different matter.

All of which brings me to now - Wednesday - because of the boom town nature of Midland/Odessa,  housing is not only at a premium, there is no room in the inn, any of them, thus the advantage of the Totee.  A semi-advantage only; there is no room in the the RV parks, either.  His departure was put back and put back and put back as we waited for his place on a waiting list to advance.

In fact, I became so accustomed to his departure being deferred that it was shocking when an opening was announced.  Last-minute packing, reminders, reassurances and arrangements and he was on his way.

Once we surmounted the El Paso doubts, he rolled into his destination mid-day Sunday.  His descriptions of the changes to the city are astounding.  Miles and miles of industrial and oil-related businesses have popped up like mushrooms in the rainy season during the past two years.  Of course all that increased industry demands additional businesses to serve additional workers and workers' families.

Shades of 19th century gold rushes!  Those stories that shimmer as if they were legends are suddenly made real.  It has happened in Midland before and likely will occur again after this one busts, but for now, it has changed us as those of long ago transformed other families - to their advantage or not.