I have been unable to feel as of late. Or I have been unaware of how I feel. And not for lack of trying, mind you. I am asked frequently, and before I offer a knee-jerk canned response, I ask myself. But no answer comes. Most often I lie. Sometimes I admit that I just don’t know, which makes an offhand query become a philosophical rabbithole, often to the chagrin of the person who probed me. I think there’s a lesson in there.

I am now living in the town that I grew up in: Conroe, Texas. I was born at Conroe Regional Medical Center. I attended Conroe High School, of the Conroe Independent School District. I will probably die here.

Donald J Trump is the President of the United States of America and I live in Conroe, Texas. No, I don’t know what to feel.

Interesting fact: if you drive through New Mexico at 80mph, it feels as though you are not moving at all. At 80mph, by the way, you put a mile behind you every 47 seconds. At 90mph, it’s every 40 seconds.

We made good time, despite the fact that a fierce winter storm named Jupiter pushed us quite literally off the road in Kerrville, Texas. While driving through the mostly desert area in the rapidly encroaching darkness of night, the rains fell heavily, coupled with the already strong crosswinds, and traction was lost repeatedly until all traffic slowed to 55mph or less with our hazards on. Visibility was low, and every attempt I made to speed up was met with more loss of grip on the road. It was as if anything travelling over 60pmh was considered by the wind to be wind, and it would fold it in its loving arms and take it home, or wherever it is that wind lives.

Interesting fact: most women in Texas will tell you two generations of their family’s history upon first meeting you before they even learn your name or offer theirs. I had forgotten about this phenomena sometime in the past fourteen years, but it is as true today as it was so many years ago when I drove around on these streets and shopped these stores. It happened with the cashier at the 4-pump Exxon in Kerrville, the receptionist at the storage rental facility in Conroe, and the bartender at Montana’s Shop Talk down the street from where I’m currently staying (Mom’s; there, I said it.) The latter had us to herself for the better part of an hour, and somehow, despite the fact that she filled the air with so many words and names and stories, she managed to divine that my wife and I were “evenly yoked“. She even drew us a diagram so that we could grasp just what that meant and how rare and blessed it was.

This is a land trapped in Time. I have seen more churches out of my car window in the past five days than I have in the past fourteen years. Confusingly, I have also seen more sex shops and billboards advertising sex shops. Cindie’s, Adam & Eve’s, Zone D’Erotica, Katz’s, and Eros, just to name five. Churches, bars, and places to buy dildoes. Drive-through liquor stores. Waffle Houses and Cracker Barrels and amazing mom-n-pop diners and delis. Pink Taco Cabana buildings everywhere. So much real estate up for grabs, McMansions for sale, and Carvana (yes, this is an actual thing). It is bizarre and surreal and yet all very familiar.

As I’ve told many about this adventure, I am “writing a new chapter in an old book”. Now if I just knew the tone of this tome…