My journey in pictures

Monday, August 9, 2010

Waymore's Museum and Liquor Store

Littlefield, Texas just looked like a hard and dusty ol town on my little coupla hour visit. It's a place I'd think Waylon Jennings would come from. Given that, I shouldn't been surprised to find "Waymore's Museum and Liquor store". Darla Jennings (Waylon's niece) owns and runs the Museum/Liquor store. Formerly a gas station, the museum/liquor store is one big room with two smaller one's that’s seen it’s better days. The liquor sat around the room with Waylon memorabilia in various places. No one else was there at the time and I spoke to Darla for a little while about the place. Darla said that people will come in wanting to buy the same thing that Waylon drank. She said he didn't drink but she remembered Jessie would sometimes drink a little Blue Nun (in box) out on the road. I guess push comes to shove and they'll buy a box of Blue nun in honor of Waylon, maybe? That'd seem weird but not sure what they settle on. She’d moved to Lubbock (30 miles or so away) and married but talked about getting sucked back into Littlefield after her divorce (I think was the right order). Kinda bummed me out being from a small country town but I guess she’s happy or content with staying there. She seemed like a strong woman that “ain’t gonna take any shit” from anybody (that in my mind I’d think was a Jennings trait). Still, the whole place and her just seemed desolate to me. What the hell could I tell from only a 2 hour visit, though. Anyways, I wanted to have her in a picture with the store. She's painted a bunch of his titles on the front but she tells me that "Dreaming My Dreams" is her favorite. It was Waylon's favorite (according to Nikki Mitchell who'd know). Darla didn't seem to know that. Anyways, the picture is taken beside that title painted in her favorite color, blue. I also told her who the writer was (Allen Reynolds) and about the writer (Allen) not knowing that it was Waylon's favorite song until about a year or so ago when I was able to get the message to him (good GOD my grammar suck/that's as close as I can get the sentence, guys!). I don't know, it's just an interesting thing to me. A good friend of mine originally from a nearby town told me to “get the hell outta there ;)” . She was kidding, I think but she left a long time ago and from what I gather is NOT planning on moving back.
I now find myself looking for more big ridiculous statues. I'm beginning to be a little obsessed with that stuff, now. Regarding dinner, I went out to eat the last coupla nights. It was 11PM by the time I ate my steak and tater the other night (now known to Lubbockites as "the night of the potato incident").
P.S. location of "potato incident"-Camp

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