Am not quite sure what prompted pausing in Grandview/TX – maybe nothing more than having once lived on SF’s Grand View Avenue. (Where a “grand view” WAS available: sun rising over Oakland’s East Bay hills turning blue-gray SF Bay to a lake of molten gold, and an hour later into glistening silver. [Friends in Newport Beach/CA and a small town of Caspar in northern CA have a karmically reciprocal view: late afternoon sun silvering sea and, later, sunset gilding ocean’s surface]).
Grandview simply isn’t any place “special”: but, perhaps, a residue of Oklahoma City’s carnage needed some balance… an ordinary American town of Norman Rockwell images to scrub “bad” images from mind.
A couple of cars are parked in shade of huge tree. No more than half-a-dozen cars pass thru this four-block long main street. No pedestrians brave early afternoon sun/heat, but, a couple middle-aged men sit on metal folding chairs in the shade of a huge, permanent Quonset hut which houses fire department equipment. (Tho, at the edge of hearing, splashing and children’s screams suggest a heat-defying pool in someone’s back yard.)
While lining up a shot, notice a young woman’s face in “Closed” café’s kitchen window: an owner using Sunday silence to “clean up”? A cook, doing prep work for “dinner hour”? Never know – like many faces in our lives, hers passes into that niche of memory we call “Unknown”.
Wander Grandview’s “business district”, then head off into a nearby residential area of big “homes” (as opposed to “McMansions”) set on deep, wide lots. Periodically, hear a chainsaw’s buzz, and a couple cars still grace a church’s parking lot (deacons converting collection plate offerings into a bank deposit?).
Most homes well-tended… a few, run-down and abandoned, set imagination into overdrive.
Perhaps this tiny village’s attraction is no more than “last port” before launching off into a l-o-n-g drive home.
A late afternoon driving error causes me to pass thru Belton/TX downtown (or, as they are now known in the travel trade “Historic District”).
As county seat, a modestly-sized town’s County Courthouse glows in late afternoon sunlight, and near-empty streets transport me back to “spaghetti westerns” (tho architecture is NOT of that vintage).
Amble a bit, and find delight acknowledging a woman and small girl jointly pushing a baby carriage, and a sextet of “elders” speculating upon where to share Sunday evening dinner.