It’s not the Jackson that Johnny Cash wrote about but it fit my version as I rolled into Jackson, WY with some old classics playing through my speakers.
As I sit here thinking back on Jackson, a smile spreads across my face. I’ve often heard and even found myself saying, “People make the place.” And I agree with that. But as I think through it more I believe that the place is the canvas where the people are the paint. A cheap canvas with holes in it can still hold a breathtaking portrait and the most expensive canvas can hold a painting not worth a penny. Luckily for me, Jackson has some amazing paint and it’s a pretty stunning canvas to which the paint has landed upon. The canvas and paint of Jackson came together creating a piece of art that I will enjoy for years to come.
The main reason my time in Jackson was so memorable was being able to experience it alongside long time friends Madison and Annemarie Gardner, their new baby boy David, a one-of-a-kind outspoken loving Angie, and the best guide you could ask for in Bill Klyn - who’s called Jackson home for nearly the last forty years. With a crew like that, you could be in the middle of the west Texas plains and have a rip roaring - hearty laugh filled - entertaining - meaningful time. No offense to those who choose to call the west Texas plains home. It’s just not my choice of canvas.
Trying to choose which stories to share from my time in Jackson is like trying to choose which Thanksgiving desert to fill your plate with after you’ve already failed your original goal of not overstuffing yourself on the main course. And going back for seconds, naturally. My Venezuelan brother always shows this by putting his hand up to his jaw, marking the line to which he has filled himself with food. Do you choose Grandmomma’s delicate angel food cake with the perfect amount of frosting so that it melts in your mouth? She’s only been perfecting it over the last 60 years, ohh and it’s topped with blueberries, sliced strawberries, and a scoop of vanilla Blue Bell ice cream. Do you choose Nana’s pecan pie that is warm in the center causing the ice cream scoop placed on top to run rivers down through the toasted buttery pecans resting in the brown sugar and butter whipped filling? The crunch of the crust and nuts with the warm smooth creamy filling, contrasted by the cold sweetness of ice cream...how could you say no? But then you come to the poppyseed cake with pudding under-layered frosting so that the pudding soaks down into the cake making it land somewhere between cake and pudding consistency. As you look down the line you then see and smell simultaneously the rum cake that always gives you a little extra warmth in your gut thanks to the rum filled glaze that’s added after it comes out of the oven. Then there are homemade sugar cookies, brownies, and after all this you have the store bought stuff that isn’t bad...it’s just not heavenly like the former. So, which do you choose? You’re likely to explode if you eat them all, so there must be an elimination. And there lies the difficulty I face in choosing which stories to tell along my time in Jackson.
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