Long-time reader and longer-time Mooringsport Elementary classmate Nan has for months been casting lures toward Kat and Jackson to visit her and husband Ken’s mountain palace outside Cuchara, Colorado.  Part of the allure of the RV life is No Plans and No Deadlines.  To visit Nanner & Co., along with a couple of other Mooringsport Oilers, and two former North Caddo Rebels (Si and Phil’s alma mater) would require a long turn to the south and good grief, a commitment.

We did it anyway.

July 3^rd’s dinner was BYOB barbecue at the Yellow Pine Lodge.  The chow was good and plenty, the price reasonable, and there was this singer-songwriter type who performs there on many a Thursday doing solid vocal and guitar work.  Oh, I nearly forgot:  ol’ Ken was pouring his fine Merlot and Chardonnay like it was tap water.  Then came the Laphroaig, a smoky-sweet, platonically rich Scotch whisky whose world-class reputation falls short of its universe-class taste and finish.  Ah, our readers:  this is hospitality!

But all along the draw had been seeing old friends plus the July 4^th parade Cuchara, Colorado hosts annually.  Nanner fed us a big, early breakfast.  The old folks ate as much as we could and then headed out for The Dog Bar and our street side seats along the parade route.

Nanner, Cliff, and I grew up in a town twice again as large as Cuchara.  But our town’s parades were few, tiny, trite, and let’s be fair – Mooringsport has no bars and maybe then had two people who could make a Bloody Mary.  Cuchara owes a dozen politicians something for this one.  Many turned out asking for votes, including some running for election in Texas.  We are in the Texas Riviera.

I can’t say much for the music (none), but the water wars approached violence, and some of the car floats were imaginative.  The water wars shed light on the danger of being a HUMV gunner in an urban warzone.  If the truck ahead of you is disabled and there’s another one behind you, your vehicle will have little to no maneuverability.   And when that happens, the guy sitting up top is a target from every direction except the one where his .50’s point.

But today in Cuchara, no blood was shed, the weather was perfect, and we had a fine time with people we had not seen in 17 years.  We won’t wait 17 more.