A Cure for Homesickness

June 3, 2001


So Gwen and I just got back from hanging out at the Rusty Rail, one of the bars in Gardiner, and we met this guy who annoyed us to no end. It was one of those situations where he just said all the wrong things. You know, stuff like, “it’s good to get away from all the niggers,” or, “I got fired from Yellowstone for possessing a gun,” or “Hey, you guys are from Houston too?” First, we find out that he’s from Texas, okay, I can handle that.

“Oh really, what part of Texas do you live in?”


“Wow, what part of Houston?”

“The north side, in Conroe, around the Humble area.”


You would be surprised at the amount of people here from Texas; one of my favorite most recent friends is from Lubbock. He wasn’t actually born in Texas but he got there as fast as he could. Drew is one of those good ole boys but his hardships outweigh mine by a ton. Less than a year ago, his baby son was killed by his emotionally unstable wife, and a few months before that, his best friend was killed in a car accident, and a couple of weeks before that, his sister was in a head-on collision with a drunk bus driver and was killed upon impact. At just 26 years old, Drew has lost the majority of both his family and friends. I think about Julie, and Christy, and Jeff, and Jim O’Prye, but somehow these personally horrifying tragedies don’t compare to his. I am keeping a watchful eye on his well-being.

Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist