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It’s easy to say what Mentone, Texas, hasn’t got: A hospital, a bank, a Wal-Mart, a stoplight. What it has got, in quality if not in quantity, is a wonderful assortment of local characters. They make the story. Take Lloyd Goodrich, for example. Lloyd has a master’s degree in engineering but looks like he just stepped out of an old Western movie. He keeps all his junk in old dishwashers and refrigerators. He’s got them numbered and keeps an inventory of the contents on his computer. It’s a gentle, harmless form of tax evasion, he confesses. He’d have to pay taxes if he actually put up a storage building.
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There was really no “worst” about this assignment. The only downside was a little indigestion because the food tends to be on the greasy side. And you do have to drive a helluva long way to get anything because Mentone doesn’t have a grocery store or a pharmacy. There’s a café, and that’s it—that and the stray dogs.
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I went to Mentone eight years ago when I was working on a story on the Pecos River. Who would have expected that I’d ever return? The town itself has all of 15 people; its very existence is quirky. I’ve been there twice; two times more than most people.
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