It’s a Mystery to Me

It’s a Mystery to Me

Out in west Texas, there’s a town called Marfa. Out in Marfa, Texas, there’s a phenomenon known as the “Marfa Lights.” Some people say the Marfa lights are navigational beacons, sent from UFO’s in the skies above. Others speculate that they are some kind of radioactive bursts of light. I’ve even heard a rumor that they are, in fact, jackrabbits that have small horns, which glow by the light of dusk, the moon, or some other jackrabbity glow-inducing agent. Frankly, I’m surprised Elvis has yet to be associated with the Marfa lights because, well, everything else has been already, why not him too?

Whatever your believe, the Marfa lights are the main tourist attraction in Marfa, Texas (a town where, it goes without saying, there aren’t many tourist attractions to begin with.) The lights are said to appear at night, bounce around in the sky, dotting the horizon for a brief spell, before they vanish, and sometimes, if you are lucky, reappear for you to enjoy.

The other day, I was talking on the telephone with somebody in New York, who asked me about the Marfa lights. What really amazes me about the Marfa lights is not the lights themselves, not the fact that the lights have become such a big money-making tourist attraction (I would almost expect that actually) and not even the fact that Elvis has yet to be spotted out in Marfa, Texas. No, what really amazes me is that, while talking on the telephone, to a native New Yorker, about the mystery lights in Marfa, Texas, I gave this explanation:

“Oh, sure it’s a big deal. Imagine some yahoo sitting out at night, in a beach chair-one of those old beach chairs with broken cloth straps-in the middle of the desert (actually Marfa, Texas-no visible water within a 1000 mile radius) sitting there, next to the satellite dish, on his front porch, paddle cactus

dotting the horizon, with his very own big haired women by his side, making comments like, ‘look Ma. Them lights is up again. Yee haa!’ Meanwhile, the women, secretly yearning for the satellite dish to pick up Dr. Phil re-runs and a for a fresh set of hair rollers to magically show up at the local pharmacy, rocks quietly next to him on a porch swing, as the rust literally ages their 20 year old pickup truck, with three brand new shotguns gleaming in the back rack, while their six children, none fathered by the same man, peacefully sleep inside, under the 102 degree cloudless Texas big sky, in their little house,

next to a six lane, traffic-less highway, in the middle of nowhere, Texas. Meanwhile, the jackrabbits, UFO’s, radioactive gaseous cloud formations, Elvis sightings, or whatever the Hell else causes them damn lights, quietly glows in the moonlight. “

Texas, it’s like a whole ‘nother country. At least I don’t wonder why they don’t like to play Canasta in Marfa, Texas.

Until next time…


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