171: WE ROCKED THE FARM & ROLLED IN ROUND TOP

A half hour or so after the sun’s sphere broke the eastern horizon near Streetman, Texas, my photographer rolled his sorry carcass out of bed. It was eight o’clock on Saturday October 23, 2021 and the two of us had nowhere to go. And that was okay; at least we didn’t have to ride with Vic, Anthony, and Ash to Waco to see the overrated Magnolia stuff again. When Tom carried me into the living room of the Johnson’s lake house, or farmhouse depending on which direction one looked, I saw Kim had been up and was on her second cup of coffee. That was great to see because my favorite “Trump fan” had been out of commission for over a day with nausea. My photographer has that effect on most people.

As Tom and I relaxed and watched “The Fiscelli Factor” in full force, it didn’t bother either of us one bit. As a matter of fact, I found it rather entertaining as I watched them drag their feet. At one point, I let out a small chuckle to myself when I heard my photographer say to his wife: “Well, so much for getting a seat at Magnolia Table before the seven o’clock rush. The way you three are going, you’ll miss the lunch rush as well”. That’s when Tom and I were informed that we wouldn’t be lounging around all day. Instead, we were tagged with babysitting duties. That’s right, Reese and Brooke were staying at the farm and they needed adult supervision. At that moment, a thought popped into my head: “Thank goodness Kim felt better. It might be a good time for her to hone-up on “Nana skills” so she’ll be prepared when her kids become parents.”

It was nearly 11am when Vicki and the Fiscelli’s left for Waco, which was roughly 60 miles to the west. Through a front window, I saw Bill on his side-by-side as he headed off to do some “City Boy Farmin'”. As Bill sped off, I saw pure magic unfold before my resin eyes. Kim had placed a dozen or more small rocks on the dining room table. She also had a smorgasbord of paint pens there as well. After Reese and Brooke had donned larger-than-normal tee shirts, the two girls clung to Kim’s every word when she asked them for a favor. She had requested each of the youngsters to paint a rock that they could place in the family rock garden, which was located just outside of the home’s front entryway. I had to laugh to myself because I watched as Tom painted his own rock across the table from his grand kids; he was without doubt totally nonexistent to the girls. In Reese and Brooke’s mind, Kim was a rock star; and it was evident she loved every minute with them as well. One certainty came from the rock painting session – Kim Johnson will someday become one of the best grandmothers on the face of the Earth. Kim’s patience, kindness, generosity, compassion, tenderness, and love she had for the two Fiscelli girls was a sight to behold. And it was very evident the girls had fallen in love with their new Princess Kim as well.

When the rock painting, hair styling, and Paw Patrol on TV had ended, Bill returned to the house in search of two farm hands to help with the chores. I was relieved when he didn’t see Tom or me. Instead, Brooke and Reese boarded the ATV with Bill and the trio headed to the pasture where Rusty, Lyla, and Tyra awaited some grub. From an opening in the camera case, I watched the interaction between the three; and it was so cool. Bill has been the star father of the show “My Three Sons” and is a gun-toting, Baylor football loving, Cowboy wannabee who hasn’t had many interactions with little girls over the years. From the huge Texas-sized smile on his face, Bill enjoyed the Fiscelli girls as much as Kim did. Then it dawned on me. When Bill and Kim’s sons have children of their own, my photographer and his wife will have stiff competition for the annual Grandparents of the Year Award. And I gotta tell all y’all – it’s gonna be a close competition! All I know is Tom and Vic better buy a boat and a side-by-side! A huge farm with longhorns wouldn’t hurt either.

Tom and I had spent a couple of hours wandering aimlessly around the farm as we searched for critters to photograph. In August 2019, we saw dozens of beautiful butterflies; but they weren’t around in October. But spiders and dragonflies were everywhere. At one point, my photographer discovered a blue dasher dragonfly in front of the guest house. When he aimed his camera’s lens towards “nature’s helicopter”, the bug smiled at him. I saw it too; and it freaked me out a bit. The dark slit that bisected the whiteness of its face had quickly opened and closed; a snide grin remained. Did that insect say “cheese” when he saw the camera with his metallic blue eyes?

With our “walk on the wild side of nature” finished, Tom and I hung out in the house until the Waco group returned at roughly five-thirty. It was our last night at the Johnson farm and our final opportunity to watch a sunset over the Richland-Chambers Reservoir. That reservoir was created in 1989 when a dam was constructed at the confluence of Richland Creek and Chambers Creek and is the third largest inland body of water in Texas. Surprisingly we got a late start to our boat excursion onto the lake. The first issue came when Kim said sunset was “around” 7:30pm. When the sunlight began to wane shortly after six, my photographer discovered sunset was at 6:44pm. Then came “The Fiscelli Factor”, which in layman’s terms was like herding cats. Down at the boat slip, Kim dropped her sunglasses into the water and Bill couldn’t get the Sea Ray started. I couldn’t stop laughing to myself. Watching that wayward group of people in that boat reminded me of a Gilligan’s Island rerun. As Skipper Bill navigated the “Minnow” out into the reservoir, a little jingle popped into my resin-filled head.

“Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of an evening trip. That started near the Johnson farm, at their lake side slip. First mate was an Edison guy, the Skipper’s not too sure. Nine passengers set sail that night, for a one-hour tour; a one-hour tour. The evening sky had grown dark, no single cookie tossed. If not for the patience of that motley crew, the sunset would be lost; the sunset would be lost. The group had made it back to shore, it was darker than they’d planned; with Anthony, and Skipper Bill; The photographer, and his wife. A bobble head; Kimbra, Ash, and the girls, back at the Johnson’s Farm.”

It was dark when we made it back to land. After Bill and Anthony had stowed-away the Sea Ray, my photographer carried me up to the house where everyone enjoyed a home-cooked baked chicken dinner prepared by Kim. As the night went on, Tom and I watched the Atlanta Braves win the National League pennant when they defeated the Dodgers 4-2. As one point during that evening, Bill and Anthony headed outside, armed with rifles, in search of the lawn-damaging wild hogs. Suddenly, I heard a shot from the backyard. A vision of Dealey Plaza immediately entered my mind, although a second and third gunshot never followed. When the mighty hunter’s returned, I discovered “Lee Harvey” Fiscelli had assassinated an innocent armadillo.

Our final day at Bill and Kim’s farm had ended after the Braves game. When Tom set me on the bedroom table where I spent the night, I couldn’t get the Gilligan’s Island theme song out of my head. As annoying as that was, I figured it was still better than hearing “Dominque” over and over again.

Sunday October 24, 2021 had begun way too early for my photographer and his wife. Tom’s alarm went off at 5:30am, but I wasn’t sure why. He and Vicki had all day to make the 145-mile drive from the farm to their hotel in Brenham, Texas where they had reservations for a two-night stay. Then it dawned on me when I saw the Fiscelli’s. Ash and Anthony had their luggage packed, the kids ready, and they were out the door by six. They were headed to DFW for their flight back to Michigan. The Johnson’s left shortly after; Bill had committed to be an usher in his church that morning. Kim had returned to Plano with him as she needed a vehicle for her treasure-hunting extravaganza in Round Top. As a matter of fact, Tom and Vic had conjured up a scheme to meet Kim on Monday morning at the Round Top Antiques Fair, which was the self-proclaimed largest antiques event in Texas.

My photographer and his wife woke up for a second time at ten o’clock. I noticed a very strange sound inside the lake house – deafening silence. There was no pitter-patter of little kid’s feet, and I loved it. By the crack of noon, the three of us were in the Jeep and headed off the Johnson’s farm. From an opening in the camera case, I saw Rusty, Tyra, and Lyla as they watched our ‘Family Truckster’ head through the gate.

The long two-hour, forty-five-minute drive to Brenham was déjà vu all over again as half of that journey took us along the same route Tom and I had traversed to the Bush Library at College Station. And I had to admit, the second trip was as boring and uneventful as the first. On that Sunday afternoon, however, the boredom was occasionally broken by the sounds of my photographer yelling at his fantasy football players who once again failed to live up to his expectations.

The three of us arrived at the Baymont Inn & Suites, which was located on the south-side of Brenham, Texas, at 2:45pm. Even though we were roughly 25 miles from Round Top, which was the epicenter of the antiques fair, Tom and Vic were lucky to have found a reasonable price for a hotel that close to the action. After all, they heard tens of thousands of treasure hunters converge on that area for the week-long fair and lodging was at a premium. My photographer and his wife spent the rest of that Sunday eating Papa Johns pizza while they watched football and the NASCAR race on TV. When the lights went out at 9:30pm, I stood in the darkness and wondered what the Round Top Antiques Fair would feature, besides thousands of crazed people running around in search of that one piece of junk they can’t live without.

Both Monday and Tuesday, the 25th and 26th of October, were nearly identical. The alarm went off at 6:30am and we were at our pre-arranged meeting spot in Warrenton (four miles south of Round Top) to rendezvous with Kim Johnson at nine o’clock. Believe it or not, Kim was late both days; even though she had lodged a lot closer to Warrenton than we had. For two days, Tom and I went our own way while Kim and Vicki shopped together. In the beginning, the two of us hiked around Warrenton for a few hours; my photographer had his sights set on historical artifacts, Presidential stuff, and vinyl albums. Later that afternoon, and throughout the day on Tuesday, Kim drove us around to different areas along Highway 237 where we had hoped to find the “Honey Hole”. And wouldn’t you know it, Tom found it at a place called ‘Cole’s Antique Show’ where he purchased several Presidential-related artifacts. And for Vic and Kim, they got to meet a couple of local television celebrities who owned a place just south of Round Top called ‘Junk Gypsy Company’. Sisters Amie and Jolie Sikes, whose HGTV show called “Junk Gypsies”, had become famous for doing renovation work for country artists Dierks Bentley and Miranda Lambert. As a matter of fact, the Sikes sisters also designed Lambert’s wedding to Blake Shelton. Since my photographer focused on potential treasures instead of focusing his camera, he didn’t capture a lot of images from our time at the Round Top Antiques Fair. The ones he did get, he’ll share with you now.

Kim was like the Energizer Bunny when it came to shopping at Round Top. My photographer and his wife? Not so much. As a matter of fact, when hugs were exchanged at the end of that second day, I watched as my companions collapsed into the Jeep. As the three of us headed back to our hotel in Brenham on Tuesday evening, I couldn’t help but think of Tom’s highlight of the day. It came during one of our last stops at the fair when my photographer saw a talking Abraham Lincoln figurine for sale. When he began “The Dance”, which is the negotiation ritual seen at flea markets, Tom discovered that he and the owner of the Lincoln toy were born on the exact same day – August 19, 1956. Cindy was born in Tyler, Texas and my photographer entered the world in St. Clair, Michigan. I heard Tom mention to Cindy that she was the first person he’d ever met who was born on the same day as him. My photographer also told the Texan that his son, also named Tom, was born on August 19th as well. Cindy followed suit and said her husband’s name was Tom. The world got a little smaller that day. As difficult as it was for me to admit, I was impressed by the way my camera guy had used that coincidental oddity in his dickering technique for Lincoln. At the end of their twenty-minute discussion, Tom had our 16th President under his arm as we headed for the Jeep.

When the three of us got back to the Baymont at six o’clock, the first thing Tom and Vicki did was dump a small handful of Advil down their throats. I could tell their feet and legs were aching from an exhausting two days at Round Top; they immediately collapsed into their beds. The lights were extinguished at 8:00pm and I had the remainder of the night in total solitude. For me, it was a solemn night of inner reflection and fond memories. During the past two weeks, I saw some amazing Presidential sites in the Lone Star State, not to mention our Buddy Holly tour in Lubbock and the Friday Night Lights in Midland. However, it was the time we had spent with Bill, Kim, and Sally that was the most special. I knew Vicki’s visit with her aunt and cousin meant the world to her; those folks are about the only branches of the Winter family tree she has left.

I didn’t know for sure what to expect in the morning. I knew the meteorologist on television had predicted severe storms would likely hit our area just before dawn. And why not? In my mind, I figured the way our luck had gone on the trip, we’d likely get swept up by a tornado or maybe hit by lightning. Or perhaps our ‘Family Truckster’ would be damaged by golf ball-size hail – which would bring a whole new meaning to Hail to the Chief!

*This post is dedicated to Bill and Kim Johnson. Our gracious hosts opened up their home and farm to our family and we are forever thankful for their kindness and hospitality.