East Texas Piney Woods

I have been soaking up the good of Texas as much as possible before I head west. Of course, as I do so, time seems to go faster and faster. Last weekend I struck out to the east to hang out at my friend Brian’s parents’ lakehouse over near Sabine National Forest. Public land in Texas, you ask? Well there is a little bit of it here and there, and a fair chunk is sequestered over in the eastern part of the state where a series of dammed rivers form a chain of lakes that act as the boundary between the independent republic and our neighbor Louisiana. East Texas is different than up here and the vast, dry sprawl of West Texas into which I have ventured several times now. East Texas is green-- piney and deciduous. Where we were (to the South), there is quite a bit of Cajun ancestry and culture that has spilled over from even further east. It is hard to imagine living in an area like this given the lack of industry, the small towns, the non-existent cell phone coverage, and the preponderance of Dairy Queens (one per town, regardless of size), but little else in the way of restaurants and businesses. It didn’t really seem like a farming community, although there were many fields of hay. Something is sustaining the folks that live in East Texas, it just wasn’t obvious from looking out the car window what that might be.
Once at the lake house, the task of relaxing was all that laid before us. Brian’s parents were wonderful hosts (and excellent cooks) and the idea was to be as lazy as possible on the porch, on the dock, and in the lake (essentially the antithesis of Darron’s lake weekend—coming right up!) The rocking chairs and ceiling fans on the porch facilitated a great deal of this, as did the array of fishing poles on the dock, and the flocculent-filled, bathwater warm lake at its end. Those of you who know me well know that if there is a lake nearby, I prefer to be in it. And so I was, with occasional nibbles from something sharp amidst the murky waters providing enough of a boost to launch me straight up and out, at least momentarily.

Taking a weekend off from doing felt great. It is a rare thing for me; I remember the last time I relaxed and did nothing for a whole day-- it was in Belize in 1995 while visiting my friend Betsy. We laid on the beach (I had never and have never since been so tan as that day) and ate fish tacos and did nothing for a whole day. It was great, but apparently satiated my desire to completely relax for about 15 years. Now I am rested and ready for Lake Weekend, a trip to south Texas the weekend after that I hope, a westward odyssey, and whatever else is in store....

PS. Some folks have been asking—what is the fate of schaackmobile in Oregon? (the trailer, not the blog) Fear not aspiring hall-of-famers, your days are not numbered. The trailer will remain my primary residence in Oregon until I a) grow up or b) find a non-mobile living situation that is somehow more appealing than my current chelonian (house-on-your-back) lifestyle. Seems unlikely... once you have given up furniture and other domestic trappings (like vacuuming and household chores), it is hard to imagine ever going back. And the moving! Other than the fairly daunting idea of trying to schlep my house with my little car over the Siskyous, there is no easier moving than this. Leave everything right where it is in the house, and just move the house. None of that pesky packing or unpacking. As always, mi casa su casa.