Hello, Radio Readers! I’m Jane Holwerda from Dodge City, Kansas, and I’ve been reading and thinking about Elmer Kelton’s novel The Time It Never Rained, set in 1950’s West Texas. Kelton himself grew up on a ranch near Midland, Texas but didn’t feel he was suited for ranch life. After college and military service, Kelton edited farm and ranch journals in Texas and also earned a solid reputation as “an authentic voice of Western literature.” He is acknowledged as being among the first to reset Westerns from the late 1800s to “modern times” (Humanities Texas https://www.humanities texas.org/programs/tx-originals/list/elmer-kelton) and in revealing the vulnerabilities and strengths of strong men through trying times.
Like the central character The Time It Never Rained. Charlie Flagg, a life-long rancher who has held out and held on to his ranch through all kinds of challenges, most recently, seven years of drought. Tough-minded and self-sufficient, he’s refusing government assistance, even, as is pointed out to him, to do so costs him more in grain, grass, and water. He’s seemingly set in his ways. He’s tired, old, and adamant about maintaining his independence even as he sees he’s on a clear path to losing everything. Whether heroic or foolhardy, Charlie seems to be one of the last of his kind, grievously and admirably so.
Charlie Flagg reminds me of my father, who wasn’t a Texan, but, like Charlie, did his best to live his life on his own terms. A diesel mechanic, he ran a small shop and guaranteed his work. In his prime, he ran a successful expanding business. But from the onset he ignored then resisted advances in digital diesel technologies, choosing neither to retool or reskill. I’m not sure why, his resistance to adapt, to learn. Was it fear? fatigue? Lack of time? Inevitably, business at his repair shop slowed then flatlined, and after continuous disastrous agricultural years for his local customers, it was all but over. He held on until he died, everyday trudging off to his shop, a one-man gig at that point, to bang on a 100% mechanical engine, antique and archaic, selling off equipment, parts, and machinery, mostly for scrap.
For his funeral, friends, family and customers turned up from across the tri-state region, with stories of his skill in his trade, tall tales of things he’d said and done, his generosity to friends and community. One manufacturer of semi-trucks, headquartered in a northern urban setting sent to his rural outpost a lovely written account of his decades of work and what had been for a long time his expertise with their engines. This tribute was attached, rather curiously, in my opinion, to a bouquet of orchids, which quickly withered, much like many small independent enterprises.
Reading and thinking about Kelton’s The Time It Never Rained, and even knowing it’s not in his character, I keep wishing that Charlie might accept that sometimes larger forces—weather, so-called innovations, market conditions, population changes—get in the way, keeping us from living our lives and earning our livings as we’ve learned and yearn to live and earn. Little that any individual can do, in response to these larger economic forces that seem to determine our fates. Adapt or die. Or, as we say today, upskill and pivot, embrace change. If we are to thrive, or maybe just survive, these are presented to us as the most viable, pragmatic and utilitarian options. But is this a justifiable ask of those like Charlie, whose values are bound to self-efficacy, to having some kind of say? In his novel, Kelton writes: “A man does what he feels is right, no matter what it costs him.” And some, well, some just like the old ways better; others pivot and pirouette on demand. Surely, there’s a middle ground?
For High Plains Public Radio and Radio Readers, I’m Jane Holwerda from Dodge City, Kansas.
