The concrete jungle and the path not taken

I've never taken my camera on a Dallas girls' trip, but this time I did. Here's a smattering of our Dallas photos. I think the camera bringing may become a forever thing from now on.

Gotta love the green longhorns.




There were the loveliest wheat like grasses growing along highways and parking lots. All of these photos were taken in a parking lot. It's funny how I can choose to block out the cars and the concrete with a camera lens. You'd never guess this was surrounded by the big city.








This is a subdivision near Becky and Keith's house. It always catches my eye and intrigues me. There are many stories under each of the roofs of these houses....some happy....some sad. We drive by people's stories every day. This place in Dallas always makes me wonder about them. They may just be houses, but they also represent new marriages, new babies, new hopes and dreams, new jobs, new futures. But there's also old marriages, divorces, sickness, lost jobs, empty nests and unfulfilled dreams.


The rooftops, all pretty and uniform, don't divulge the stories of life.


And these are my first ever pictures of fall in Dallas. When I see them I think, eh. They're just OK.







It's a different perspective of Dallas than I've thought about before.

But from Gran's perspective, Dallas was the concrete jungle. He was right about that.


Gran was never comfortable in Dallas. He never quite fit in. I can't even imagine he and Grandma driving up there in his old country truck. But he did it for Becky when she needed some "man's work" done around her house. He was great like that. He never much liked to leave home, but if any of us asked him to come see us, MOST of the time he would. I miss him so much.

He was once offered a position at the Dallas Morning news. He of course turned it down. He never would have been happy anywhere but on his little unpretentious farm in Corsicana. Still, sometimes it makes me wonder about his path not taken. What would he have been like if he'd moved to Dallas? Would he have worked his way up the ladder and been a newspaper tycoon? Would he have bought a big fancy house and been a famous newspaper man? I can't imagine him being anyone but who he was. And I'd rather have had him and the time he spent with me, than have a newspaper executive as my grandfather but have barely known him. He worked 45 years at The Corsicana Daily Sun, and never had one days' paid vacation. If he didn't work, he didn't get paid. And the day he retired, he got a watch and not one thing more. He was good at what he did but I don't think he was ever appreciated for a job well done. And he made more money at odd jobs after he retired than he did working at the newspaper. He lost fingers in the press and sweated out a living there but he never missed it after he left it. Truly was a country boy who stayed in the country and loved to be outside.

I think He made the right choice.