Big O appreciation

US Highway 67 goes for 1,560 miles, beginning in the small town of Sebula, Iowa, and ending in Presidio, Texas, a border town on the Rio Grande. Out of all those miles, and all the places that highway travels, the spot where it crosses FM503, in Valera, Tx has captured my heart.

Valera, Tx. Population 91.

Not much there. And even less today.

But for three decades it held one of the best barbecue joints in a state filled with the best barbecue joints. Big O’s Barbecue. Big O’s was run by Big O himself, Lynn Owens.

For nearly 20 years my brother and I have hunted on a ranch in the mesquite-filled hills of Coleman County. My dad met the landowners years ago, while looking for a place where he and his sons could hunt. These days, my brother Luke and I continue to make our annual deer season pilgrimage to what has become for us sacred ground. It’s there we hunt Texas whitetail and tell tall tales about ‘Pops’ who’s been gone 12 years today. Most trips we’re joined by my dad’s friend, and amazing hunting buddy, Jim Brigdon. Jim has become family to us. A long-retired Dallas Police detective, Jim is never short on stories, always long on time, and one of the more gracious men I’ve met. At the end of each evening hunt, we weary hunters would make our way to one of Big O’s tables and order up a three meat combo – double brisket and smoked sausage for me and Jim, and a Valera Style Sandwich – onions, cheese, jalapenos, and chopped brisket - for Luke. Big O would welcome us, hassle us, give us the intel on other hunts and hunters that had come in, and update us on the college football scores. And he’d insist that we have a piece of pie.

The thing is, I live in Washington, DC and so getting to Valera takes some doing. I live in a place that seems to change constantly and moves at breakneck speed. Big O’s is neither. It hasn’t changed much. And moves at a more sane pace than the world that I live in most of my life.

A couple of years ago, O found out that my wife Lisa was a contributing author to a Christian devotional book. O’s daughter is a minister so he sent word to me that he wanted a couple of the books for her and his wife. When I finally arrived with the books a month later O ‘paid’ me with two racks of ribs, wrapped up so that I could take them back to D.C. Making the trip from the wilds of Valera to the wilds of Capitol Hill is one of the longer trips for barbecue carry out that I have ever taken. Those remain some of the best ribs I’ve ever eaten.

Over the years, many of my December deer hunts have fallen on, or around, my birthday. Which has meant that most of my birthday celebrations have been spent with Big O, Jim, and Luke. So often I’ve thought that eating brisket in a west Texas barbecue shack at the intersection of two lonely highways is the stuff of Larry McMurtry novels, George Strait songs, and beautiful memories.

In a world that is constantly changing, where people are measured by their productivity, and popularity is treated as gold - Big O’s has remained a place where care, welcome, and slow moving consistency is tended to like the fires of a barbecue pit. Big O’s refreshes my soul by reminding me that doing something well, over a long period of time is still important no matter where it’s done - including in a town of 91 people.

Since opening in the 90’s, Big O has hired dozens of local teenagers to be wait staff, busboys, and cooks. He often says he’s the biggest employer in Valera. I think he’s the only employer in Valera. Big O’s walls are dotted with photos of Big O alum who come back to the restaurant to see their old boss so he can brag about their accomplishments in college, on the grid iron, in the military or simply in life. A testament to his longevity and his impact on so many for so long. That can happen when you anchor your life in a place; when you, “sit a spell” as the old timers say, and invest in others.

But things do change. Even if they change slowly.

A few months ago Big O decided that he’d smoked his last brisket. He said he wanted to retire. Said, he’d been thinking about it for a while. The amazing staff that worked alongside Big O threw him a retirement party at the Coleman Rodeo grounds. That will always be a party I hated to miss.

I wish O well. I’m grateful to him for the years he welcomed me. The meals he fed me. The jokes. The stories. Like so many Texas legends, Lynn Owens rides off into the sunset on his own terms.

I will be hungrier now that Big O’s is closed. But my life will always be the richer for the years we kept together.

Best of luck O. Thanks for the memories.