Say you drive a Chevy - say you drive a Ford:
Say you drive around the town 'till you just get bored:
Then you change you mind - for something else to do:
And your heart gets bored with your mind and it changes you.
John Prine, "All the Best"
-----------
I've put that lyric in a post before. I've put a whole bunch of John Prine lyrics in posts over the years. But, John passed away this week and I've been listening to him a lot these last few months.
The Colorado River runs straight across the middle of Austin. Arriving from the West, it eventually heads East, emptying out into the Gulf. It's a strong and deep river, fed by tributaries that find themselves filled up all year round by a relentless program of torrential downpours.
But you probably wouldn't be aware of any of this if you were just casually passing through. I mean, you'd certainly know about the big expanse of water that breaks the place in half. You couldn't miss that. You just might not know that it's a river. Because they call it a lake. Well, to be precise, they call it a bunch of lakes.
Let me explain.
You see, sometimes in life, you can gather a group of folks who share a passion for fixing things that ain't broke. And, on occasion, this gathering will grow into something approaching the size of a population. Austin is an example of one of these such groups that got so damn big, that they went out and made a whole town for themselves.
Which is fine. If you're into that sort of shit. If you are - and you're looking for a place to break up shit that is already in fine working order - you should grab yourself a suitcase and join your tribe out there.
There's nothing wrong with the Colorado River. It's a fine river. Cool, clean water, running fast and full. Sure, it has weeks when it seems a little off its very best. But that's how a river goes. It has its ups and downs. But, this doesn't make it any less of a river. In fact, the ups and downs are the very characteristics that make it a river.
All of this is just to say, that the river ain't broke at all. And because of this, those fine folks out in Austin felt the need to rush out and fix it.
So, what they did, was go ahead and dam the thing it up. They built several large damn, dam walls; called the spaces in between those walls 'lakes'; named those lakes after the wives of politicians or commanders of lost battles; and set about trying to tell folks who would come passing through, that a river is really a lake. Or bunch of lakes.
One of these lakes - which you now know is really a river - is fed, in part, by a creek dotted with natural springs. And, yes - because it's what they do - they went ahead and dammed that up too. Creating a huge, natural spring, swimming pool.
Stretching out over the distance of three football fields - American Football fields - the pool is a faded and brown, hulking concrete tub, with an opening at each end that controls the water flowing in and out. Flanking the lengths of the pool are two steep, hill-like inclines, rising up like elevated theatre seating. They are covered in a spotty, green-ish lawn. I say "green-ish", because the grass never seems to grow in properly and I found myself out there, on this particular Friday morning, having to lay my towel out over dusty, brown soil.
Fridays are a busy day up at Barton Springs. Clumps of bachelorette parties fly into Austin late Thursday afternoons and normally get out to the Springs the next morning. Their weekend programs usually contain just the one, token, non-alcohol event and they like get that one out of the way early. So, I ended up having to share my patch of dirt with a Tulsan Executive Coach.
She didn't start off as an Executive Coach. And she didn't finish up still living in Tulsa. But if you're gonna reduce someone down to just a couple of random details, it's best to pick out the details that matter the least.
I can't remember exactly what I said, but I muttered some sorta dry quip about the dozen auburn-haired clones at the pool's edge and the Tulsan laughed. From that opening we got to talking.
She had been in the Air Force. Stationed in the center of Oklahoma. She did tour of Afghanistan and when she came back, her husband - who was a medic with the Marines - was, himself, deployed out there. After he left the US, there was a mix up with his mail redirection and the statement for his second credit card came through to the house he shared with the Tulsan - a second credit card that she did not know about. It had a whole bunch of charges for a girlfriend - that the Tulsan also did not know about - and clothes and school registrations fees for a child - that, again, the Tulsan did not know about.
So....she put in for a discharge and left Oklahoma running - cause walking was most too slow. She ended up in Austin with a year's worth of savings and a new phone number. She chose Austin because it was close and different and seemed full of opportunities. But, I never thought that the town suited her. See, her shit actually was broken and really did need fixing. But you never know if you're in the right place when you're still in it. It is only afterwards that you can tell. For some people, to try work that out, is the only reason they leave.
She rented a little furnished apartment up in The Domain. It was cheap and new and that building was clad in faded baby blue stucco, with the balconies creating a pattern of beige, rectangle cutouts. Kind of like a Bauhaus building - if Bauhaus were a colour-blind Dallas housewife, candy-flipping Adderall and Tylenol PM, whilst binging on Property Brothers marathons.
Her therapy was tacos, edibles, cellophane bags of frozen grapes and Brené Brown YouTube videos. Not some Brené Brown YouTube videos - ALL of them. On repeat. Over and over again for six straight months. After those six months, March came around and with that came the SXSW Conference extravaganza thing. She bought herself a two week pass and caught a panel on Executive Coaching.
The guidance and organisation these Executive Coaches seemed to provide for others, was exactly what she was craving for herself. So she decided that she would make this her new career. Her new life purpose. For, if you can't have something for yourself, the next best thing is to provide that thing for others. For a fee.
I never did find out how this new career was working out for her, because before I could ask her, she asked me
"Hey. What star sign are you?"
"Taurus." I replied.
Her eyes suddenly flashed a shade darker and her head tilted to the right. She took and deep breath and then stood up.
"Oh no. This is not a good idea. Nothing personal, I just shouldn't be sitting here with you. A Taurus? No. Not today."
She scooped up her towel and scrunched it down into her navy, canvas tote.
"Lovely to meet you. Good luck with your cafe!" she said.
Then, she carefully descended our incline, jumped down onto the concrete pool deck, marched around to the other side and climbed up the other incline. Stopping at the exact facing spot to where she had just been sitting with me, she pulled out her towel, laid it out and plopped on down. Sitting with her knees pulled up to her chin, she fixed her eyes on me and stared back across at me with a Shakespearean disdain - so strong, that I nearly cared.
But then it started raining and I headed home.
I actually saw her again. Just one other time. It was about a year later. I was leaving a bar on the East Side and she was walking in with a few friends. We did the quick greeting thing and she told me that tonight was a good night for her to hang with Taureans and that I should come grab a drink with them. But I still remembered that piercing stare of hers and I wanted nothing to do with that.
"Sorry. No can do." I replied. "I'm actually leaving town in the morning. But, it was good to see you. I wish you all the best."
And then I went home and started packing.
