After ranting a little bit about Texas on Facebook, I discovered that several friends of mine from my Gypsy Scholar days with the Univ. of MD live near San Antonio. One of them contacted me on Facebook and invited me to spend the night at his place, which was fairly close on my route, so we could all get to see each other. They live in the hill country of Texas, which is actually very pretty. The hills are covered in juniper and cyprus trees, as well as mesquite, cottonwood and various oaks. There are small rivers that run through it, and some lovely historic towns. The ranches are hilly and filled with trees, sheep and goats as well as cattle and horses. A herd of white-tailed deer often wander into the yards of my friend’s small community. Some of his neighbors feed them corn, which they will eat out of a person’s hand. There were a number of them lying around his neighbor’s yard on Sunday morning. Sometimes they wander through his back yard since he doesn’t have it fenced in. This creates a wonderful atmosphere though the deer make it extremely difficult to keep a garden. It is a very quiet, peaceful, pretty community and town. I had dinner with him and another friend from Okinawa on Saturday evening after I got there. She lives near enough that we could pick her up at her daughter’s family’s house, where she was visiting for the weekend. She actually lives in an apartment in the next town over. We had fun reminiscing about our days teaching on Okinawa, Japan. The next morning we all went to visit another friend from Okinawa, who is now a resident in a rest home. That was a shock. She has aged horribly and is not able to move well. She is bed ridden. She also didn’t remember me. She has spells when she doesn’t remember a lot of things. It was very sad. She had been such a vibrant, strong woman. I’m glad the other two friends, who visit her every week in the nursing home, are still healthy and able to live on their own.
It all brought home to me how young I was compared to most of the other instructors on Okinawa and the places where I taught in Europe and the Middle East, as well. But they put up with me anyway. I am grateful that I had a chance to know these people when I was there, teaching, but also for being able to reconnect with them. I’d forgotten what wonderful, interesting people they are and how much I learned from them! And I got a night in a comfortable bed, dinner and breakfast with good Texan cuisine (even vegetarian) and great company. I wish life had treated our other friend better, but she seems to have made peace with where she is and is content. I hope I age as gracefully as these folks are doing – I’m not handling middle age with much grace, I admit.
After we left the rest home, I left my friends and continued on to Galveston. I decided to skip San Antonio. It would have meant backtracking a bit, and I did see the town a few decades ago. I confess that Texan cities aren’t high on my list of priorities to see right now though I may regret that later. It really wanted to see Galveston. I hate to admit that the stupid Glen Campbell song has been in my head off and on since that morning. “GALVESTON OH GALVESTON… I still hear your sea winds crashing…” Blech. That’s my father’s fault for playing that album so much when I was a kid. [It’s always healthy to blame your parents for your eccentricities…] I admit that I also caught myself humming John Denver’s “Rocky Mountain High” [actually, marijuana is not permitted in the national parks since they are owned and operated by the federal government - just thought you might want to know that] while I was in the Rockies a few weeks ago. How many weeks ago was that? I’m losing my sense of time the further I drive. I thought about stopping at the Huston space center, which I drove past, but it was the end of the day by the time I got there, just in time to watch them close up. I thought about going back the next day, but by then I was more interested in seeing Galveston and the next island, Port Bonita.
I drove the to the end of the island where the state park is, hoping to get a camp site. The sign said there were no vacancies, but I went into the main office and begged, anyway. The woman in charge took pity on me and gave me the last site open, which was in the RV section, but had enough grass for me to pitch my tent. It was too hot to sleep in the back of the van. The ten had screened windows that zip up if it gets cold, and with those wide open to the breezes coming off the bay just yards away, it was cool and pleasant. After setting up the tent, I sat at the picnic table on my site, listening to the insects trill and chirp, the gulls cackle and screech, and other birds call and screech. I could hear the surf faintly in the distance. At that point, the island is not that wide, so the ocean side was not too far away. The light dimmed across the estuary water, shrubs and grasses as the sun set. It was extremely beautiful and peaceful. I got a text from one of my brothers saying his best friend had died that afternoon. It was a terrible, sudden tragedy. She was fairly young and leaves behind a very young daughter – around 7 or 8 years-old. The daughter’s father is married to my niece (complicated family drama there). I’m guessing there are tough times ahead for all of them– a shuffling of priorities and dramatic changes in their lives, as well as grief, loss and fear. We know so little about our journeys! This is one of many reasons why life is so terrifying at times. (And why isn’t ‘journeys’ spelled with –ies instead of –ys? Really?) More about Galveston later.
It all brought home to me how young I was compared to most of the other instructors on Okinawa and the places where I taught in Europe and the Middle East, as well. But they put up with me anyway. I am grateful that I had a chance to know these people when I was there, teaching, but also for being able to reconnect with them. I’d forgotten what wonderful, interesting people they are and how much I learned from them! And I got a night in a comfortable bed, dinner and breakfast with good Texan cuisine (even vegetarian) and great company. I wish life had treated our other friend better, but she seems to have made peace with where she is and is content. I hope I age as gracefully as these folks are doing – I’m not handling middle age with much grace, I admit.
After we left the rest home, I left my friends and continued on to Galveston. I decided to skip San Antonio. It would have meant backtracking a bit, and I did see the town a few decades ago. I confess that Texan cities aren’t high on my list of priorities to see right now though I may regret that later. It really wanted to see Galveston. I hate to admit that the stupid Glen Campbell song has been in my head off and on since that morning. “GALVESTON OH GALVESTON… I still hear your sea winds crashing…” Blech. That’s my father’s fault for playing that album so much when I was a kid. [It’s always healthy to blame your parents for your eccentricities…] I admit that I also caught myself humming John Denver’s “Rocky Mountain High” [actually, marijuana is not permitted in the national parks since they are owned and operated by the federal government - just thought you might want to know that] while I was in the Rockies a few weeks ago. How many weeks ago was that? I’m losing my sense of time the further I drive. I thought about stopping at the Huston space center, which I drove past, but it was the end of the day by the time I got there, just in time to watch them close up. I thought about going back the next day, but by then I was more interested in seeing Galveston and the next island, Port Bonita.
I drove the to the end of the island where the state park is, hoping to get a camp site. The sign said there were no vacancies, but I went into the main office and begged, anyway. The woman in charge took pity on me and gave me the last site open, which was in the RV section, but had enough grass for me to pitch my tent. It was too hot to sleep in the back of the van. The ten had screened windows that zip up if it gets cold, and with those wide open to the breezes coming off the bay just yards away, it was cool and pleasant. After setting up the tent, I sat at the picnic table on my site, listening to the insects trill and chirp, the gulls cackle and screech, and other birds call and screech. I could hear the surf faintly in the distance. At that point, the island is not that wide, so the ocean side was not too far away. The light dimmed across the estuary water, shrubs and grasses as the sun set. It was extremely beautiful and peaceful. I got a text from one of my brothers saying his best friend had died that afternoon. It was a terrible, sudden tragedy. She was fairly young and leaves behind a very young daughter – around 7 or 8 years-old. The daughter’s father is married to my niece (complicated family drama there). I’m guessing there are tough times ahead for all of them– a shuffling of priorities and dramatic changes in their lives, as well as grief, loss and fear. We know so little about our journeys! This is one of many reasons why life is so terrifying at times. (And why isn’t ‘journeys’ spelled with –ies instead of –ys? Really?) More about Galveston later.