I always seem to return to Arizona, from points east and northeast, by way of Colorado.  My uncle lives there, as do Penny’s next-oldest sister and her husband, several of her other relatives, and an honest, loyal friend.  Then, there’s the Blind Chef.

I went back to the Denver area on September 25-26, specifically to check on my uncle and give a bag of gifts to my friend and her family.  Both were in view of the floods that ravaged the west side of the Front Range, while I was back on the East Coast.  I also had to reassure my friend that I was in a good place, emotionally.

I first took care of seeing to it that my Uncle George was okay.  He was, and he wondered if I was okay.  After dispensing sage advice about widowhood, he headed back to his place, and I took care of my car, overdue for a good service.  The next day, I went up to Fort Collins, and found a town well-along in recovery from its waterborne travails of early September.

A brief meeting with my friend, surprisingly, left me in a calm, well-balanced frame of mind and emotional state.  I drove down to south Denver, stayed in a rough and tumble motel, and, the next morning, met the Blind Chef, fresh from his having whipped up some chicken chili.

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We amused the noon day group at the corner Winchell’s, and, after an hour’s worth of bantering about social media and the joys of cooking, I was off again towards home.  One stop intervened between me and Cortez:  Mike’s Coffee Bar, in Walsenburg, CO.  This, of course, made up for the lack of wifi at the Winchell’s, earlier.

I arrived in Cortez about 8 PM, and easily convinced myself that AZ would be better off without me for one more night.  A good night’s sleep always makes for a better homecoming, anyways.  On September 27, 2013, at 12:45 PM,  I pulled into my garage in Prescott, and this year’s marathon came to an end.

September 23 took me through the rolling, forested hills of a far neighbour:  southwestern Kansas.  I find going through Dodge City, Garden City and their siblings to the west is the quickest way to get to Colorado from Oklahoma.  I drove up through the Cimarron Valley, out of Enid and into the Jayhawk State, rather than going through the Oklahoma Panhandle, as I did last time.  The Cimarron River was running a tad low.

Soon enough, I was marveling at the Red Hills of Kansas, south and east of Dodge City.

Medicine Lodge is the first community in a series of Kansas towns which figured large, in the story of the settlement of the West.

The centerpiece of this area, though, remains the domain  of Marshal Matt Dillon and Wyatt Earp:  Welcome to Dodge!

The Marshal was real,

and he had a little jail.

Everything else that is necessary to a viable community was also there- including school and church.

Old Dodge City’s commercial area was as lively as that of much larger towns back East.  The pharmacy had, relatively speaking, a selection reminiscent of WalMart or CVS.

The saloons and restaurants were numerous.

In addition to the lawmen, even animals found their way into Dodge City lore.

Dodge City had a small Town Green.

Today’s Dodge is as upbeat and modern as any place in the USA.  The philosophical mien of this town is self-reliance, as indicated by this meme on the wall of  a local coffee house, Cup of Jones.

I like to be nice to people, but there is something to be said for the person who wrote this.  I was soon to sit down with one of his/her kindred spirits, who is also one of my best friends.

Getting from Cleburne to Lake Texoma took much of the afternoon.  I spent an hour or so, driving around the northern and eastern edges of the man-made gem that lies along the state line of Texas and Oklahoma.  First stop was the Love County Courthouse, in Marietta, OK.

Next were the lake, and its awesome truss bridge.

A crane took a lazy wade in the lake’s northeastern corner.

In the midst of intense fishing and swimming activity, I managed some sanguine shots from the eastern shore.

The Roosevelt Memorial Bridge may not win any beauty contests, but it gets the job done well.

Here’s a final view, from the western edge.

I didn’t stop long in Oklahoma City, and got into Enid, and a cozy couch, at 8:30, so the photo day was done.

My Dallas visit covered the flashy downtown, Pioneer Park, with its cattle drive sculpture and Dealy Plaza.  There are other sections of Texas’ second-largest city, including the Heritage Center, that could be the focus of another visit, but my main concern was the heart of  Big D.

The area along the Trinity River, and its views of downtown, from the west, gave me a fine first impression of a city that had mainly been seen from the freeway, in years past.

Like San Antonio, Dallas has preserved its exposition-period tower.

It has also preserved the cabin built in 1841, by Dallas’ founder, John Neely Bryan.

In the same downtown park, Founders Plaza,  there is an homage to those who died in combat.

The most iconic building in downtown Dallas is the red sandstone Dallas County Courthouse, now known as the Old Red Museum.

Just north of the Big Red is the Purse Building, a preserved former government records office, now converted into shops and restaurants.

Here is the core of downtown Dallas.

After an hour in the Dallas Public Library, I found my way to Pioneer Park, and enjoyed the cow culture sculptures,  a small waterfall and a pina colada icy.

My final stop, in this 50th commemorative year of John F. Kennedy’s assassination, was Dealey Plaza.

As it was 6 PM, on that Saturday evening, and my heart was a bit achy, I headed on down to the Liberty Hotel, in Cleburne, TX, and pondered just how far we’ve come, as a nation, since 1963.  I’ve been in Cleburne, once before, in May, 2012, and my stay at the Liberty fulfilled a silent promise I made back then.  It’s a well-appointed business hotel, with a fine eatery, Caddo Street Grill, located just behind.  I enjoyed Saturday dinner and Sunday lunch there- courtesy of a feisty, but hard-working wait staff.

My journey was entering the home stretch, with a few stops remaining in the familiar turf of Oklahoma, Kansas and Colorado.  My biggest journey was to be the one I took inside myself.

Most of my Texas journeys have focused on the west and north of the Lone Star Empire.  I did head down the midsection, from Fort Worth to Brownsville, in May, 2012.  This time around, the journey was brief, from Texarkana, to Longview, and on to Dallas.  Longview was my rest stop on September 20.  My first taste of  the Piney Woods came at a rest stop, off I-20, halfway between Tyler and Terrell.  Here, next to a game farm, is a 1/2 mile nature trail.

Views of the game farm were abundant,

and I made a new friend.

The emu followed me along the fence, for pretty much the length of the trail.

When I detoured to Grand Saline, some friendly folks were giving away hot dogs and water, to promote their video store.

Their store is right next to the venerable Grand Saline Inn.

As elsewhere in Texas, the east has its share of “Old West”  structures.

Only Grand Saline, though, has the Salt Palace, actually an overhead to protect this lump of salt.  East Texas’ largest active salt mine is in operation, 5 miles south of Grand Saline.

The aviator Wiley Post is from this area, and is commemorated here.

I made a three hour visit to Dallas, that afternoon, so next up is Big D.