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db428 · 6 years ago

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Texas Karma

Texas is still attempting to turn me into a Texan. Moving to Midland as a 15 year old was challenging and accompanied by the onset of horrendous hay fever. More than anything I missed distinct seasons, woodland areas and creeks. Let’s just say I didn’t want to consider myself a Texan especially if it meant living in what I perceived to be a desert while constantly sneezing and rubbing watery eyes.

Fast forward to the 80’s and a small Hill Country town where this former urban girl first experienced Texas karma with a crash course introduction to ranching. This was the result of three guys having a few drinks after work and plotting new careers for their wives. All three men went on to have multiple marriages.

This was the plan: the Ford dealer’s wife who held a broker’s license would open a real estate business despite being the educational diagnostician for the school district; the banker’s wife who had already been talked into starting a construction company would give the new real estate firm exclusive rights for her subdivision; the lawyer’s wife with a brand new real estate license earned only to shut up her husband was to join the new real estate firm although she owned a small shop.

The co-conspirators also had a plan for the new office that would require no expense to open. The office was an old desk and phone at the edge of the Ford agency’s showroom next to the bathroom where the sound of flushing bounced off the terrazzo floors. The plan was executed, the three husbands assumed their wives would deal with it and they moved on to reforming the school board and scheming to get a new school superintendent in place.

With school starting there was no interest in looking at new homes, but I was pleased with my logo. That was my only accomplishment other than buying a few office supplies. The phone never rang. The town did not have MLS and seeking advice from established realtors who had engaged in legal battles with my husband was not feasible to say the least.

Some one actually called me one day looking for land in the country. So I drove the county roads looking for land for sale. I finally found an old rusty sign and stopped to talk to a neighbor working in his yard. He was a charming 80 year old who told me about the rusty sign. Then we talked for several hours about fruit trees and growing vegetables as we looked at his garden. The land adjoining his was not for sale.

A week later my phone surprisedly rang again. It was the man I’d met out in the country. He said I was the only realtor in town to be trusted and that his family wanted me to sell their ranch. As I was asking questions and taking notes - 230 acres with the Lampasas River frontage, I noticed a man edging closer and closer to the far end of the showroom.

When I put the phone down, he said he’d buy that ranch. He did. He was from Pecos and enjoyed buying ranches. I had never been on a ranch and feared getting lost. From that point on, I was happily selling ranches and enjoying riding the country roads blasting Willie Nelson in my little Bronco. Texas karma won the first round and I developed a fondness for ranches and ranchers.

Texas karma struck again this summer. This time it was cowboy boots made in Texas. After the Head Start program where I’d worked since coming to Fredericksburg closed, I’d tried consulting and various on line temp assignments now known as side hustles. Evaluating web sites and new apps wasn’t that appealing, I’d only had one consulting project and then I discovered online sales.

Through other odd circumstances, I have a new consulting gig assisting the owner of a 130 year old German dance hall in bringing it back to life. It was closed 12 years ago after the owner’s wife died.

This man is a true Texas story teller with the ability to bring 1800’s German settlers and Comanches back to life. Now the girl who dreaded the required Texas history classes in high school and college is entranced.

The man is a compulsive hoarder with a golden nose for sniffing out incredible bargains. He is drawn to the $5 items worth hundreds and sometimes thousands. He cannot stay away from thrift shops and yard sales. He has filled his sweet white gingerbread farm house and new rock house from floor to ceiling. Part of my job is to help with online sales to raise money for repairs to his dance hall.

So now I’m selling preowned Lucchesse, Justin and Nocona boots, plus some vintage items on line. I’ve never owned cowboy boots, never wanted to wear them, and know nothing about them. And once again total lack of knowledge was my starting point in learning boot vocabulary and types of leather. Not being able to recognize old elephant hide resulted in someone getting an incredible bargain thanks to my ignorance. Although I carefully studied photos of the various types of leather, I never saw an example of elephant hide because it is illegal to sell. Had I known that prior to the 1980’s it was legal and vintage elephant hide boots could be legally sold.

And to my surprise I’m actually enjoying Texas, although the heat is unbearable and I’ll always miss four separate seasons. I just don’t want Texas karma to strike again. I’m still grappling with boot leather.

Sent from my iPhone

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db428 · 6 years ago

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Two months later...the fog has thickened at the same time it seems to be clearing.

Lately I’ve been learning about cowboy and western boots that I’m selling on Poshmark and related sites. I’m also attempting to understand the world of online marketing with its mysterious array of three letter acronyms.

Living in Texas does not automatically provide knowledge of boot vocabulary such as J-toe. I’ve collected enough information on boot construction, bookmakers, styles, leather and more to write a book on boots.

Simultaneously I’m learning about German settlements in the 1800’s in the Texas Hill Country. My new focus is assisting the owner of one of the earliest dance halls to reopen. It was established in 1889 and served the predominantly German community at that time and through the years.

The dance hall is in remarkably good shape and has a well documented history. We are in the planning stages and I’m working on funding sources and a marketing plan. If these random thoughts of mine turn into something remotely resembling a blog, then one of my original ideas for online work might become reality. Texas karma has hit.

I moved to West Texas as a 15 year old and thought I was living in another world which I really didn’t like or understand. Severe culture shock.

Virginia has always felt like home to me and I lived in DC and Virginia for a number of years. Texas history never interested me. Now cowboy boots and Texas history are a big part of my life.

Texas has gotten its revenge for anything, everything negative I’ve ever said about Texas, Texans, Midland (where I went to high school) and Texas culture. Now I’m finally beginning to appreciate its unique culture and history. Texas has gotten its revenge. So much for my years of being a Texas snob. Texas is still attempting to turn me into a Texan.

Moving to Midland as a 15 year old was challenging. People actually said “howdy” and “ya’all”. No more “you guys” for me and it was never heard in the halls of high school. Actually I said it a few times and received odd looks. More than anything I missed distinct seasons, woodland areas and creeks. I didn’t want to consider myself a Texan if it meant living in the desert without a camel.

Texas Karma

Let’s just say I didn’t want to consider myself a Texan especially if it included constantly sneezing and rubbing watery eyes. I had discovered there is something called hay fever. Not only did I not like West Texas, I seemed to be allergic to it. The trees, grasses, weeds and dust resulted in ineffective allergy shots twice a week.

Dust in West Texas is not the thin coating that gradually appears on furniture. It is an event similar to a desert sandstorm. High winds filled with reddish brown dust turn the sky brown while violent winds blow trashcan lids, light weight lawn chairs and anything not firmly attached to the ground swiftly down the street. Dust storms are such a dramatic experience that you can see them on YouTube.

The “firm” opened in mid August. A few days later, Sharon announced it was time for her to return to her school job. Nothing had been done toward opening the new firm or any guidance offered on running a real estate business. I designed a logo and started running newspaper ads for the subdivision. With school starting there was no interest in looking at new homes, but I was pleased with my logo. That was my only accomplishment other than buying a few office supplies.

The phone never rang. The town did not have MLS and seeking advice from established realtors who had engaged in legal battles with my husband was not feasible to say the least.

Someone actually called me one day looking for land in the country. Not knowing what else to do, I drove the county roads looking for land for sale. I finally found an old rusty sign and stopped to talk to a neighbor working in his yard.

He was a charming 80 year old gentleman who told me about the rusty sign. Then we talked for several hours about fruit trees and growing vegetables as we looked at his garden. The land adjoining his was not for sale.

A week later my phone surprisedly rang again. It was the man I’d met out in the country. He said I was the only realtor in town to be trusted and that his family wanted me to sell their ranch. Apparently being trustworthy includes advocacy of mulching.

As I was asking questions and taking notes - 230 acres with the Lampasas River frontage, I noticed a man who had been looking at Lincoln Town Cars edging closer and closer to the far end of the showroom toward my battered old desk.

After I put the phone down, the man who had been quietly creeping toward me was now standing close to my desk.

Without pausing to introduce himself, he simply stated that if I got the listing, he would buy the ranch. I did and he did.

From that point on, I was happily selling ranches and enjoying riding the country roads blasting Willie Nelson in my little Bronco. Texas karma won the first round and I developed a fondness for ranches and ranchers.

Texas karma struck again this summer. This time it was cowboy boots made in Texas. After the Early Head Start program where I’d worked for the past few years closed, I’d tried consulting and various online temp assignments now known as side hustles. Evaluating web sites and new apps wasn’t that appealing, I’d only had one consulting project and then I discovered online sales.

Through other odd circumstances, I’m now selling preowned Lucchesse, Justin and Nocona boots online. Of course these boots have that Texas mystique and tradition. And once again total lack of knowledge was my starting point. Boot vocabulary and types of leather have not been easy to master and are yet to be mastered. Not being able to recognize old elephant hide resulted in someone getting an incredible bargain thanks to my ignorance.

Sent from my iPhone

My first post ~~~ Once again I’m relying on the phrase that has lingered in the back of my mind since college. I’m starting new projects that I know nothing about, from Tumblr to researching and applying for remote positions. So onward through the fog…

This is actually a bumper sticker from a small business near the University of Texas campus. And for those of you who may be wondering, I only purchased their bumper stickers. Unfortunately it is now in a new location with a touristy, commercial vibe something akin to Whole Foods’ transition from a small authentic Austin co-op to the monster that it has become.

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