GOOD THINGS HAPPEN

"'Behind the cold, cold walls of a prison,
racked with pain and sorrow I lay,
without the love of my sweetheart,
no letter, nothing at all."
I can't remember the exact words of that song in any order, just snatches and bits of lines sung by Rex Allen. The small town of Wilcox, AZ has a Rex Allen museum. The museum curator had never heard of it. It was the only record a family I babysat for in 1949 owned. I played it over and over again. I hadn't seen but one or two movies at that point in my life, so I had no idea what a huge star Rex Allen was. In this town, he is still a star, their favorite son. Born and raised in Willcox, Dec. 31st, 1920, he never forgot his humble beginnings and did well by his hometown. He honored and respected his neighbors; built the town a hospital; inspired children and did many charitable things for a lot of people.

Fancy clothes were part of the business of being a singing cowboy and movie star. But, he was a real cowpuncher who knew how to ride and brand cattle. He didn't let fame affect him. He stayed married to his wife, and didn't have a dozen affairs.
He is buried on the main street of Wilcox with his favorite horse, Koko.
We pressed on to Demming, NM, spent a night and moved six miles south of Demming yesterday. Good things happen. I ran into a great gal I met last year on the road in Yuma. What are the odds, I asked myself, that I would meet Hilda Cerday, here in Demming. She and two friends hike a section of the Appalachian Trail every spring. She has completed Maine and Vermont and is working her way south. No moss grows on this ex-marine from Kansas in her late seventies. We enjoyed a pot luck with the LOWs (Loners On Wheels) and will move on to Palomas, Mexico.

Good things happen in threes. One of my traveling companions, Simcha Saul, answered my pleas and will send pictures of the last days of our Thailand trip. I'm so grateful for his assistance and generosity. Even more, he educated me about a program called Rescue 3 that may be able to retrieve pictres from my erased sandisk. Hopa, hopa, hopa.