The tenth day of our trip began at 6:00am when Tom’s alarm sounded. It was Sunday October 17, 2021 and we were still in Midland, Texas. But not for long. I heard my photographer mention as soon as we saw Laura Bush’s childhood home and the Methodist Church, we would begin the long journey eastward towards the Dallas-Fort Worth area. The three of us were scheduled to meet Anthony, Ashley and the girls at the American Girl store in Dallas at 10am on Monday. We also had reservations for lunch at noon inside the store.
We were out of the hotel and on our way to the first site, which was located roughly five miles from the Hilton Garden Inn. It was just after eight o’clock when we arrived at the three-bedroom ranch-style home where Laura Welch had lived with her parents from 1961 to 1963. My photographer and I were thrilled to visit the childhood home of one of our favorite First Lady’s, even though some of Laura’s most troubling and darkest times occurred there. As I stood in front of the modest home, thoughts once again filled my resin head about her automobile accident. After the tragedy that claimed the life of Michael Dutton Douglas on November 6, 1963, that home in front of me was filled with grief. In my mind, I couldn’t image the impact the accident had on the health of Laura Welch. While her minor physical injuries healed within weeks, her mental wounds never fully healed. Laura once wrote about growing up in Midland as “a place of ice cream sundaes and Saturday morning pony rides.” That all went away on that dark November night in ’63.
Laura Bush had confessed in her book ‘Spoken from the Heart‘ that after the 1963 car accident, she had lost her faith for many, many years. But after she met George W. Bush at a mutual friend’s backyard barbecue in Midland, Texas, her faith in Devine Intervention must’ve changed. On November 5, 1977, which was just three months after they met, 31-year-old Laura Welch exchanged wedding vows with the future 43rd President in the First United Methodist Church in Midland. That was the same church Laura had been baptized in as a child.
The Methodist church was located only three miles from Laura’s childhood home, and it took less than five minutes to make the journey – partially because the Midland streets on that particular Sunday morning were nearly empty. When we arrived at the large church along Main Street, I was shocked to see attendants directing traffic into some of the parking lots. Those couple of men had also placed traffic cones in the middle of the street as well. Tom hurriedly carried me to the front of the church as he wanted to capture our images without others in the photo. After he took the last photo and the two of us were headed back to the Jeep, the most amazing thing happened: My photographer started talking with an usher who stood at the church entrance. When he mentioned to the woman that we were from Michigan and the reason for our visit was to see George Bush sites, she asked Tom whether or not he wanted to go inside the chapel where George and Laura had tied the knot in 1977. I was stunned. I knew my camera guy was content with his exterior photos; he also never dreamt of going inside the church – especially on a Sunday morning. However, when Martie Coleman graciously made the invitation, Tom couldn’t say “Yes” fast enough.
Ms. Coleman led us into a section of the church and then through another doorway where we arrived in a smaller, dark chapel. We could see daylight through the beautiful stained-glass window above the altar, but that was all. Martie searched roughly five minutes for the light switch, but she came up empty-handed. After Tom assured the friendly usher that his camera’s flash would provide adequate lightly, the three of us walked down the aisle to the altar. Before I could say “I do”, I found myself standing in the same place where George Walker Bush married Laura Lane Welch on November 5, 1977. Due to the extreme darkness inside the chapel, Tom’s camera had difficulty with the metering and automatic focus of the intended image – which was me standing on the altar. As a matter of fact, I grew very nervous when several photo attempts had failed – I thought for sure we might be out of luck. Then out of nowhere the camera’s flash fired; thankfully my eyes were open. But then again, my eyes are always open as they’re painted onto my face.
Twenty minutes later, Tom and I returned to the Jeep where Vicki waited for us. I thought for sure his wife would be shocked when my photographer told her the story of where we had just been, but she wasn’t. All Vicki said was: “I swear, there isn’t a place you can’t talk your way in to.” But thanks to Martie Coleman, who happened to be in the right place at the right time, Tom didn’t need to talk his way into that church. Instead, the two of us were invited inside; and that was Southern hospitality at its finest.
It was a few minutes before nine o’clock when we left Midland behind and began our journey eastward across the state of Texas. From an opening in the camera case, I was able to see out the Jeep’s side window where I saw nearly the same scenery as I did in New Mexico and Wyoming – although we passed more small towns and larger cities in Texas. At one point, I overheard my photographer talk about that day’s NASCAR race, which was held at Texas Motor Speedway just 20 miles north of Fort Worth. I knew in my mind that Tom hemmed and hawed a few times over the three of us attending the Autotrader EchoPark Automotive 500 in person, but he opted to stay away. He never explained his decision, although I suspected some of his hesitation was due to the expected large crowd and the fact a lot of Texans had downplayed the pandemic from the onset – or at least that’s what Tom had heard on CON (Cable Opinion Network). Ironically, our own state had a lower vaccination rate than the Lone Star State.
After four-and-a-half grueling hours on the road, where the boredom was broken only by thousands of what Tom has named “Three-armed eyesores” (wind turbines), we arrived at Buffalo Wild Wings in Keller, Texas. Even though hundreds of other hungry sports fans had the same idea, the three of us were seated in a booth where we watched the start of the NASCAR race and the early NFL games. There were two things I found strange with my photographer’s “game plan” that day. First, he doesn’t care to eat at Buffalo Wild Wings, even though Vicki enjoys their cuisine. And second, we were only 14 miles south of the racetrack. Had we hurried, we could’ve been cheering for Kyle Busch in the grandstands at Texas Motor Speedway instead of seated in a cramped booth at B-Dubs where the food is terrible.
When my companions finished their food, I overheard Tom mention the football games and the race were hard to enjoy because the dozens of television sets were so close together. He said the large number of screens, combined with the loud crowd, had become a distraction. My photographer suggested we leave and spend some time at the antique mall we had passed on our way into Keller.
While Lone Star Antiques in nearby Haltom City, Texas was huge and filled with treasures, my companions managed to peruse the entire place in about 45 minutes. Like the shops they had visited in Midland and Odessa, my friends came up empty handed. In my mind, Tom and Vicki had either become very picky or they had their sights set on the antique fair slated a week later in Round Top. Before we left the antique mall parking lot, my photographer’s wife found a good price for a room at the La Quinta Inn & Suites in Hurst, Texas, which was just five miles away.
By 5:30pm, my companions were unpacked and kicked-back in our room. Tom had placed me alongside the television set where I watched the last stage of the Autotrader EchoPark Automotive 500; which was eventually won by Kyle Larson instead of Kyle Busch. The Candyman had finished eighth. Just before the Sunday Night Football game between Seattle and Pittsburgh began, Vicki received a phone call that put a damper on the rest of the evening. My photographer’s wife was informed by Ashley that her seven-year-old daughter Reese had been sick the entire day and their trip to Texas was in jeopardy. Ash mentioned they planned to spend the night at a hotel near Metro Airport in Detroit, but if Reese wasn’t better by morning, her and Anthony would pull the plug on their flight to Dallas. In my mind, I knew it was terrible that Reese was sick. The first thing that popped into my spring-filled hallow head was COVID – and all I could do was hope it wasn’t. On the flip side of the coin, however, I also knew Tom and Vic’s grandkids were the only reason the three of us were scheduled to stop at the Dallas American Girl store on Monday morning. If they can’t make it, then maybe Tom will take me to Dealey Plaza instead.
I knew Tom and his wife were tired, especially when the lights were turned out at 8:30pm. We had been on the road for ten days and that was the earliest my companions had gone to bed since we left Michigan. As I stood in the darkness and watched over the room, my thoughts should’ve been focused on Reese. But they weren’t. The only thing on my mind was the fact we were less than ten miles from the historic Hotel Texas in Fort Worth where John F. Kennedy spent the final night of his life. Had my photographer not been such a cheapskate, I could’ve spent the night there as well. What’s an extra hundred bucks when it comes to Presidential history?
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Monday October 18, 2021 began on a good note – a text arrived that said Reese felt better and the Fiscelli’s were on the plane headed to Dallas. That meant only one thing, at least in my mind: I was about to hang out with hundreds of girls who had something in common with me – we were all made in China! Tom and Vic moved slowly that morning, which was okay because we had some extra time to kill. The American Girl store, located in North Dallas, was less than 30 miles from our hotel and we had over two hours to make our ten o’clock rendezvous time with Anthony and Ashley.
Traffic was moderate and the weather was perfect during our journey to North Dallas. Fifteen minutes after we passed DFW International Airport, where the Fiscelli’s were scheduled to land at any time, I saw signs for another airport; one that was very familiar to me. It turned out we were less than five miles from Dallas Love Field, which was where JFK had embarked on his fateful motorcade ride through the streets of Dallas and into the history books. It was painful for me to be so close to the Kennedy assassination sites but forced to hobnob with some Chinese-made chicks. My saving grace was knowing that during our three-day stay in Plano, my photographer planned on taking me to Dealey Plaza. After all, he had an appointment to tour the historic Texas Theater on Tuesday afternoon.
We arrived in the parking structure, which was adjacent to the American Girl Boutique and Bistro, at 9:50am. However, in typical Fiscelli fashion, Anthony and Ashley didn’t get there until 10:20 – they were twenty minutes late. Ironically, their rental vehicle was a Jeep Grand Cherokee as well; and it was the same color as ours. Reese and Brooke were excited to get inside the store. They couldn’t hide the huge smiles on their faces, except when they wore their masks. To them, Texas meant one thing: American Girl. Although the young girls were excited to meet Bill and Kim Johnson; and Vic’s Aunt Sally; and to see the farm where the longhorns lived; Reese and Brooke had anticipated that doll store for months. Please take a moment and relive a moment in history through Tom’s photos. No, not Presidential history. I’m talking American Girl history in the lives of Reese and Brooke Fiscelli; two American girls growing up in the heart land.
Four hours after we arrived at the American Girl Boutique and Bistro in North Dallas, the six of us headed back to our vehicles. While Reese and Brooke had gained some extra weight with their new dolls and some accessories, Anthony weighed a bit less after the visit. Well, maybe it was his wallet that had shed a few pounds. While the Fiscelli girl’s big moment had come and gone, Vicki was extremely excited for our next stop – her cousin Kim Johnson’s home in Plano, Texas. I was thrilled to see Bill and Kim as well; it was my third visit to their home in Plano and I can’t ever remember meeting folks as friendly and hospitable as the Johnsons. I was also looking forward to seeing Kim’s mother, Sally Knight, as well. Sally’s a huge follower of my travels and has been a huge supporter since the two of us met in March of 2014.
When we arrived at the Johnson’s homestead, Kim met us at the door with little Riggins in her arms. The small morkie, who was named after running back Tim Riggins from the TV series ‘Friday Night Lights’, was as cute as I had remembered. Riggs had one of his “Mister Wienerman” toys clutched tightly in his mouth, which made him all the more adorable.
After both Jeeps were unpacked for our three-night stay in Plano, everyone kicked back and got to know each other. It was the first time Kim and Bill had met Anthony and the girls; and it was a long time since they had seen Ashley. Our group had waited for Sally to arrive before we headed to dinner at a place called ‘Babe’s Chicken Dinner House’ in nearby Frisco. When Ryan and Cameron Johnson, two of Kim and Bill’s three sons, met our group at Babe’s, the feeding frenzy was on. Babe’s is famous for serving the most amazingly delicious fried chicken in all of Texas; and best of all, they serve it “Family Style”. That meant my gluttonous photographer wouldn’t walk away hungry. After our dinner was finished, the fourteen of us posed for a family photo next to the 1920s Hart Parr tractor in front of the eatery.
Back at the Johnson’s in Plano, everyone sat back and reminisced about the past. I listened as hilarious yarns were spun that centered on the family. And as usual, some of the barbs were aimed directly at my photographer. For some reason, everyone seems to always compare him to Clark Griswold; but I don’t see it. Tom isn’t nearly as intelligent, graceful, or adept as Clark.
At 11:00pm, Tom carried me up to a second-floor bedroom where the two of us spent the night. Vicki, on the other hand, planned on sharing her comfortable bed with Reese and Brooke in a separate upstairs bedroom. But her plan quickly fell apart as the two girls ended up sprawled-out on the bed, while my photographer’s wife slept on a floor-level mattress in a nearby nook.
Throughout the night, all I could think about was the Kennedy assassination. It was as though the Zapruder film played over and over in my head. Dealey Plaza is my favorite Presidential site to visit, and I knew Tom was headed there in the morning. My photographer also asked Anthony and Bill to ride “shotgun” with him; especially after Sally mentioned how dangerous the Oak Cliff section of Dallas was. After Sally’s remark, I thought to myself: “How dangerous can Oak Cliff be? After all, Lee Harvey Oswald and Clyde Barrow once lived there!” Then it dawned on me – Dennis Rodman had lived in Oak Cliff as well. Now that made me nervous!
What we will do for our kids and grandkids!
Actually, I did it for Jefferson. I thought he could find a date there; but all the girls were too tall!