Charming Times In Tyler
Nothing gets done simply in the world my wife calls The Pearson Family Adventures. It's not just a fly or two in the ointment. It's all ointment-covered flies sometimes.
My move to Tyler has been no different.
There was The Little Blazer That Could, pulling a wagging 6-by-12 trailer mostly likely loaded well beyond the poor vehicle's towing capacity. There was the mortgage circus, which I'll detail later. I haven't really moved into the house yet. There is no electricity.
Beyond all the craziness, though, there is a unique sense of charm in Tyler. I was suprised to find that folks here out-friendly Southeast Texans, if you can believe that.
Here's an example:
As the clock ticked down last week to moving here, the mortgage folks informed me that the jittery underwriters decided that I absolutely could not close on the house until a day after I'd started work at the Tyler Morning Telegraph.
I responded with two questions: Where are you going to put me up? Where are you going to store my trailer full of stuff? What am I going to do with the dog?
So now I'm staying at a fishing resort, my trailer load was placed in the sellers' home and my dog is somewhere out in the country staying with the mortgage broker.
Realtors usually want to keep apart buyers and sellers, but in this case, underscoring the way things get done here, the sellers, a young couple moving to the Dallas area, agreed to let me put my trailer load in their garage.
I arrived at the house Sunday to find the wife alone at home and frantically boxing up things. So there we were, seller and buyer, with me unloading and she packing. She even let our dog run around her back yard. Meanwhile, her husband was off hunting. (If I tried to go hunting while my wife boxed up a house in advance of a move, there'd be nothing left of me but a greasy spot.)
I ran out of room in the garage's storage closet, so the woman allowed me to store stuff inside the house.
A few minutes later, she took off, leaving me all alone in the house.
With the trailer finally unloaded, I left the couple a note of thanks and a CD from my band, Buffalo Blonde.
For all I know, that CD now could be lying on the Interstate 20 roadside, but at least I took my first step in trying to fit in around here.
My move to Tyler has been no different.
There was The Little Blazer That Could, pulling a wagging 6-by-12 trailer mostly likely loaded well beyond the poor vehicle's towing capacity. There was the mortgage circus, which I'll detail later. I haven't really moved into the house yet. There is no electricity.
Beyond all the craziness, though, there is a unique sense of charm in Tyler. I was suprised to find that folks here out-friendly Southeast Texans, if you can believe that.
Here's an example:
As the clock ticked down last week to moving here, the mortgage folks informed me that the jittery underwriters decided that I absolutely could not close on the house until a day after I'd started work at the Tyler Morning Telegraph.
I responded with two questions: Where are you going to put me up? Where are you going to store my trailer full of stuff? What am I going to do with the dog?
So now I'm staying at a fishing resort, my trailer load was placed in the sellers' home and my dog is somewhere out in the country staying with the mortgage broker.
Realtors usually want to keep apart buyers and sellers, but in this case, underscoring the way things get done here, the sellers, a young couple moving to the Dallas area, agreed to let me put my trailer load in their garage.
I arrived at the house Sunday to find the wife alone at home and frantically boxing up things. So there we were, seller and buyer, with me unloading and she packing. She even let our dog run around her back yard. Meanwhile, her husband was off hunting. (If I tried to go hunting while my wife boxed up a house in advance of a move, there'd be nothing left of me but a greasy spot.)
I ran out of room in the garage's storage closet, so the woman allowed me to store stuff inside the house.
A few minutes later, she took off, leaving me all alone in the house.
With the trailer finally unloaded, I left the couple a note of thanks and a CD from my band, Buffalo Blonde.
For all I know, that CD now could be lying on the Interstate 20 roadside, but at least I took my first step in trying to fit in around here.
posted by Brian Pearson at 9:18 AM
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