Jenny Goes to Crawford

If somebody has a happy story to tell me about West Texas, I'll be surprised.

Now we're in Abilene. Yes, I know Cindy Sheehan is in California; we found out yesterday. But Pecos was not a good place to make decisions. Whereas here at the Abilene KOA, with its pool and its eight-hole miniature golf course, with its ice cream and wifi and bunk beds (we took an electrified cabin so that we could charge all of the audio/visual toys), continuing on to Crawford seems to be the thing to do.

Because Susan and I have noticed that, even though we're good skeptics, we've still been trusting the media WAY TOO MUCH to give us the 411. For example, we have yet to meet a hater. We've met some dislikers, but they've all been liberals. I'm sure our data is skewed by the people that we (read "Susan") choose to talk to. But still, the silent AAA woman and the guy in Pecos who told us about the gun fight they had the other night in Barstow are the closest we've come to rabid conservatives.

If any of you have the chance, try to rent "The Bells Are Ringing" with Judy Holiday and Dean Martin. Yes, it's a musical. But there's one number where Judy makes Dean say "Hello" to people waiting at N.Y. street corners for the light to change. Cheeze, but what if we talked to each other - our neighbors, or just strangers - instead of believing Rupert Murdoch when he tells us how much we all hate each other.

As my mother says "You touch the parts of the world that you can reach."