| Christmas
in East Texas is scented by pine woods and coffee, and
bright lights appear in town squares and oil fields to
illuminate memories of eras long past. Aaron Reed takes
a couple of holiday road trips -- one to Marshall, the
other to Kilgore -- to discover the spirit of the season. |
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The
Harrison County Courthouse in Marshall, Texas
is one of the centerpieces of a 10-million light
extravaganza in the city. |
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Broad
thoroughfares approach the courthouse and Whetstone
Square from each of the cardinal directions in
Marshall, Texas. For more than a month -- until
New Year's -- the city hosts a "Wonderland
of Lights." |
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Even
interstate highways appear bucolic as they roll
through the east Texas pines. |
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Native
pines tower over a country road near Longview,
Texas. Flying in the face of stereotypes, the
eastern portion of the state is covered by the
western-most extension of the great Southern Pine
Forest. |
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A
memorial to Confederate soldiers stands in front
of the Harrison County Courthouse in Marshall,
Texas. The city was an important trade and government
center for the breakaway nation, and for a time
hosted Missouri's Confederate state government-in-exile. |
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A
replica of the Alamo picked out in lights -- along
with some out-of-place saguaro cactuses -- stands
on a Marshall street corner. |
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Christmas
lights and an old movie house marquee light the
deserted streets of Kilgore on a cold and damp
winter night. |
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As
night falls, my parents, Bob and Judy Reed, ponder
the text at the only known international boundary
marker within the United States. The 1841 marker,
which once marked the western edge of the United
States, now stands on the Texas-Louisiana state
line. |
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It's always a risk, planning a road trip for
the aftermath of a holiday repast. Will I really feel like
rolling out the door and down the highway? Can I be budged
from my cozy nest in front of the fire at my parents' home
in Longview, Texas?
Those were a few of the questions rattling around
in my brain in the wake of the first big family gathering
of the holiday season. As Mom and Dad shrugged into coats,
I cast a desultory eye about for my shoes. Tamara sat on the
edge of her chair, waiting to see which way the decision would
go.
"How far to Marshall?" I asked my dad,
again.
"Oh, it's just down the road," he said.
"Less than 30 minutes."
Of course, my dad makes that claim about most
of the places he drags us off to these days. Since returning
to the East Texas Pineywoods after a four-decade hiatus, he
believes he's in the center of the known universe. In his
view, we should be pleased to go exploring at a moment's notice.
It's easy to see why he feels this way. East
Texas is a world nearly complete in itself. The region boasts
a scattering of "right-sized" cities - burgs with
populations ranging from 25,000 to about four times that number
- most with well-developed ring roads. In between, charming
towns dot the rolling, tree-covered hills.
Tamara and I have traveled five hours slantwise
across a third of the state from Austin to get here. Might
as well take in the sights. Convinced, I tie my shoes and
duck through the cold rain to Mom's trusty Ford Focus. A quick
trip east on Interstate Highway 20 brings us to venerable
U.S. Highway 59 on the outskirts of Marshall.
This one-time capital of Missouri's Confederate
government-in-exile was an important trade center during the
War Between the States; ironically, it later became a center
for Black education and a center of the civil rights struggle
of the 1960s. Today, it is a small city that has both charm
and bustle.
As we drive into Whetstone Square, the old Harrison
County Courthouse looms ahead, etched in sparkling, austere
brilliance. Volunteers from the Chamber of Commerce ask us
for a $5 donation and issue a windshield sticker.
"It's good for the whole season," drawls
an older gentlemen from beneath layers of flannel and down.
"Come back and bring your friends!"
We're here for the estimated 10 million lights
on display in Marshall's holiday "Wonderland of Lights,"
an annual tradition since 1987; it is part of the "Trail
of Lights," a tri-state circuit that also includes
displays in Jefferson and Kilgore, Texas, as well as in Natchitoches,
Shreveport and Bossier City, Louisiana. Marshall's
display illuminates public spaces, businesses and private
homes in lighted scenes ranging from the whimsical to the
religious. It is reportedly one of the largest holiday light
displays in the nation.
We leave the tour map provided by the Chamber
of Commerce in the car and join the promenade of tightly bundled
families walking the square. One turn and a few photos, and
it's time to duck into R&R Bakery for a hot cup of coffee.
The bakery, in a historic building at 115 E. Houston St.,
would have been inviting for the golden light spilling from
its windows alone.
After fortifying ourselves and lounging on the
plush couches near the coffee bar for a while, we climb back
into the car and follow our map through the driving tour of
the rest of downtown Marshall, which includes the historic,
antebellum Starr Family Home and the old Ginocchio Hotel near
the Texas & Pacific Railroad Depot. My favorite: an outline
of the Alamo fronted by a field of saguaro cactuses and the
words "God Bless Texas."
Marshall's Wonderland of Lights celebration runs
from the weekend before Thanksgiving until New Year's Eve
each year.
The next day brings with it the promise of more
lights after the sun goes down, but first we're off to see
a landmark that has achieved near-mythic status in my mind
over the past few years. My father came across it on one of
his pipeline surveys: a granite pillar marking the boundary
between the United States and the Republic of Texas.
We once again take Interstate Highway 20 east
toward the Louisiana border (Shreveport is less than an hour
that direction, Dallas only about two hours the other way),
but this time we exit south on Farm-to-Market Road 31. The
route takes us through the farming and ranching hamlets of
Crossroads, Elysian Fields, De Berry and Deadwood. Ten miles
after passing through Deadwood, we reach the state line and
pull off into a parking area on the north side of the highway.
There, surrounded by a steel pipe fence, is a
nondescript, square, gray marker with "U.S." cut
into one side and "R.T." (Republic of Texas) in
the other. Not much to look at, really, but the monument,
placed in 1841, is evocative of a great sweep of American
history. It is, in fact, the only international border marker
known to exist within the boundaries of the current United
States.
From the border, we retrace our route back to
Longview, and then head south on U.S. Highway 31 (a lovely
four-lane through towering pine trees) to Kilgore. Dad's office
is in Kilgore, and he promises a "different" sort
of holiday light display there.
We park in the middle of the "world's richest
acre," ground zero for the 1930s East Texas oil boom.
The derricks that quintupled Kilgore's population 70 years
ago now stand as memorials. Sure, they still pump oil here,
but not at the frenetic pace of years past; not in the chaotic,
freewheeling way that required more than one visit by the
Texas Rangers. During the holiday season, the looming, skeletal
structures are topped with huge -- and bright - Texas stars.
The chilly weather has not relented, and once
again we seek refuge in a coffee shop. Kilgore is a quiet
town and home to just 12,000 people, so it was a pleasant
surprise to find, on the town's main street, GoodDay Coffee+Books
at 111 E. Kilgore St. Bright and welcoming, the coffee shop
offers free Wi-Fi and more than 3,000 titles, many drawn from
among the best-seller lists of some of the nation's most venerable
independent booksellers. The shelves inside the café
comprise something of a modern "Great Books" list;
someone chose carefully, and well.
GoodDay is emblematic of what may be another
trend -- urbanites returning to a simpler and slower way of
life. Shop owner Brent Brown is a partner in a successful
architectural firm in Dallas, and his wife, Anne, is a vice
president of the National Audubon Society. R&R Bakery
in Marshall also is owned by urban expats: a former Californian
and a one-time cancer researcher from the University of Texas-Tyler.
Even on these two damp and chilly winter nights, it is easy
to see what they may have found here: a slower pace, gorgeous
scenery and historic buildings awaiting new lives.
Later, in the spring, maybe we'll come back for
the blooming dogwood and grape-scented wisteria and a
steamboat ride on Caddo Lake. In Jefferson, we can browse
the antique stores, or maybe we'll head on up to Canton for
"Trade
Days," the citywide flea market held there the first
Monday of each month.
My Dad's not far wrong: It's pretty much all
right here, hidden away in the pines.
Aaron Reed
12/21/07
