We headed further northwest, stopping in Meridian, Texas. The newspaper here carried a story about a local author who had just published the book Eyes in the Alley, about growing up in Texas during the Great Depression. While her family did fairly well, she recalled a family who regularly looked through the garbage in the alley next door. And she particularly recalled one of the daughter’s eyes as she imploringly looked in at her family through the fence… While in Meridian, I also talked with Main Street Antique Store owner Linda (I didn’t get her last name). She said people in D.C. are generally out of touch with why people in rural Texas need guns. She said it isn’t uncommon for her to come home to wild pigs tearing up her backyard looking for grubs. There is a cougar who often drinks out of her pool. And coyotes are everywhere. I said in Cleveland the most we have to deal with is an occasional squirrel, with an attitude. Note: About five miles out of Meridian, we blew a back tire. Our camper has duel rear wheels, so we limped back into Meridian where the spare was put on at Bowman Tire by a guy who said: “No charge.” Can you imagine that in this day and age? We then spent the night at the Bosque Bottom RV Park where dry camping is 10 bucks. Yet another financial blessing. (Have I mentioned this is a low budget campaign?) The RV Park attendant was a guy named “Slim, because I used to be.” He told us his wife had passed away six years ago, and he wasn’t going to remarry: “Until I find a woman as loyal and good as my dog Daisy here.” In return, I said: “If you find her and she has a sister, could you call me?” My wife Liz didn’t find that, oh, all that funny.