Today I fly to Lubbock on business. Buddy Holly, Lubbock's native son and hero, wrote simple songs of love and longing. I love the plains, because the plains inspires lots of love and longing.
On our desk lies a ten Euro note, which we received in some promotional (although, frankly, if I were doing a promotional I'd be more inclined to see if I could get by on a ten peso note). That ten euro note symbolizes for me all the cool European places I'd love to visit but can't or won't right now.
But isn't that the way? Everyone feels as though they are going to Lubbock. So often, though, it turns out that the Lubbocks of life are not only a destination, but also a worthwhile trip.
There's an old joke about Lubbock. It goes:
"Stranger to Lubbock rancher:
'Does the wind blow this way all the time?'
Lubbock rancher:
'Nope. Sometimes it blows the other way.'"
Waylon Jennings was a disk jockey in Lubbock. Lubbock has a wine country, where entirely workable Texas wines are made from grapes sprouted in plains hilltops. The Bible Belt extends improbably up to Lubbock, where it is not far from the "buckle" up in Oklahoma.
I will not have time to visit the Ranch Heritage Museum, nor the Glider Exhibit, nor the Windmill Exhibit. I certainly will not have time for the Buddy Holly Museum.
But I'm looking forward to going to Lubbock. It's perhaps a place I belong.
