Vivian is about a mile from the Texas border. There was a gas station on the Texas side then (still is) and we used to go there to get a few gallons because it was always a tad cheaper (still is) in Texas than in Louisiana. Not far from the gas station, the blacktop ends and a rutted dirt road disappears into thick pine forest. I'm not sure if the road is in Texas or Louisiana, but if you follow it successfully for about ten miles without hitting a deer or running into the ditch, you'll reach a little forest-shrouded body of water known as Stratford Lake.
In the 60's, someone got the idea to sell lots around the lake and develop it as a place to get away from the rat race of town. Someone should have told them that Vivian is away from the rat race of town. Anyway, a few dozen cabins and mobile homes soon sprang up around the little lake, each bulldozed lot fighting to retain its freedom from the always-encroaching southern forest replete with creeper vines and creepie-crawlies.
What few people knew was that Stratford had already been a community, long before the Civil War. They soon found old foundations, crumbling into damp Louisiana (or maybe Texas) earth. And there was a graveyard.
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