Recently (June 15, 2007), Sallie and I traveled to Littlefield, Texas, a town of about 6,500 souls in Northwest Texas (thirty miles northwest of Lubbock and not far from New Mexico) to be there at the dedication of the Littlefield Lands - Duggan House Museum. The museum is located in Sallie's ancestral home, the first permanent dwelling in that town. Sallie is a descendant of George W. Littlefield (for Austinites, Littlefield is a local god, Civil War veteran, and one of the progenitors of the University of Texas). Also of interest, and part of this museum, is the Music Room, which is dedicated to Waylon Jennings, a Littlefiled native. You can see some of the original equipment from the radio station where Waylon worked during the formative years of his music career. The museum is prominently located on Waylon Jennings Boulevard.

Sallie, along with Lana Wagner, cut the ribbon for the museum, and many many people were there in attendance.

In my short story, "Duckweed", most of the action occurs in this town. Since Sallie and I got together, we have made a number of trips there for class reunions and museum business.

Littlefield sits on the caprock, what is known as the Llano Estacado, the southernmost beginnings of the Great Plains that span this continent. The land is flat, and you can see up to five and ten miles away from any given location outside of town.

Okay, that's it.

July 4, 2007

-------------------------

Last year (May 2006) I attended the TSHA (Texas State Historical Association) annual meeting in Austin as the Chair for the Southwestern Crime section. Pat McConal had named me for the spot, but he passed away the previous Fall. It was tough being there without him.

At the meeting I got to meet several people who were mutual friends of Pat and we were able to reminisce and commiserate. One of the speakers was Warden Jim Willett (now retired), who currently heads the prison museum at the Walls Unit in Huntsville. Jim signed his book "Warden" for me, and detailed for the packed room (about 150 people) about the history of executions in Texas, the process, and his own thoughts. What struck me about Warden Willett was his humanity. He was one of the most real people I've ever met, and when I was talking to him, his eyes seemed to weigh my very soul. I wondered how many eyes had looked into his for comfort and solace before their fateful date and found it there. I walked away from that meeting that day with a number of new friends and an armload of signed books, including "They Call Me Ranger Ray" by Ray Martinez, the man who brought down Charles Whitman.

From time to time I will be putting up information here about my research into Texas Crime History and other, similar research.