I wholeheartedly approve of this courthouse. It’s not WPA, but it does a great job of mimicking that style. And the detail work around the door?
If there was ever a time to remember the importance of labor, it’s in this day and age.
This monument on the grounds is dedicated to Brigadier General Herbert Jack Lloyd, native son of Hope. He seems like a bot of a character, though the religious overtones of a lot of his ideology leaves me a bit cold. While warfare is inherently political, I find mixing religion into it to be a bit…distasteful. That said, everyone must honor their own anodyne. If that got him through it all, more power to him.
More importantly (for my purposes, at least), he is buried here in in Rose Hill Cemetery, the location of the cache. Lloyd is hardly the most famous inhabitant of the cemetery. Pretty much the entire maternal half of some Clinton family is interred here. I hear they did something in politics, but I’m a bit fuzzy on the details. But I wasn’t here for any of them, either.
I came for the grave of Paul Klipsch of speaker and sound engineering fame. In a nearby tree I found it waiting for me. As a minor complication, the CO is apparently very specific about wanting stories and longer logs for finds of his caches and reserves the right to delete them whenever he feels they are not up to snuff. This would, as you can imagine, be incredibly annoying since I’ve had this happen before, and I wasn’t sure when I’d be back here (which actually isn’t as big a concern as I thought because it’s not that far from where the Girls live and I have to pass through here to get to a number of other places anyway). So I acted like an adult and reached out to them. I mentioned that I write some stuff and I would happily write a fairly extensive and detailed thing about the cache, the location, and my hunt there for. And the CO was cool with waiting for me to write about it the old fashioned way so HEY! The Rascals! This one is for you!
And with that I started heading back home to the sacred borders of Texas. I hit a Buc-ee’s while I was rolling and grabbed a cache devoted to the death of the geovehicle of Messr. G. Slinkard, geocacher of some renown. It started me thinking about hitting every Buc-ee’s, but that’s a side thought. The drive was a long slog and I eventually made it home. The rest I had was earned. And for a few weeks, I would enjoy that rest. But the urge is strong and can only be resisted for so long. And when time and opportunity presented, I was on the road again. I had unfinished business in the West so I headed for the sunset until I arrived in…