A Romp Across Texas

We left behind the Midwestern snowbird's winter nesting grounds, the Rio Grande Valley, and set off on a tourist's romp across Texas.

Heading north along the coast, we came to Corpus Christi, a city with its own aircraft carrier, the Lexington. Launched during World War II and long since retired, it's now a popular tourist attraction. I walked its decks, climbed its stairs, toured its bridge, and thoroughly enjoyed the experience, knowing that thousands of sailors and pilots had been there before me — this wasn't Disney, this was real.

We stopped for a couple of days in Victoria, a thriving medium-sized inland town. On Sunday I attended the only UU church there, where twelve of us sat and listened to a recording of a sermon that had been delivered twenty years ago. It was an interesting sermon, about Michael Servetus (take-home point: he was burned at the stake by Protestants, not by Catholics) and afterward we turned our chairs into a circle and discussed. The members, although few, were friendly and welcoming, and I joined them later at a benefit lunch where we all ate wonderful soup and talked some more.

Near Edna we stayed overnight in an RV park nestled up against a forest, and before nightfall a half-dozen deer came out to feed. Menominee took interest in the deer, instead of sensibly watching from a distance — she walked directly toward them! The deer took one good look at her and ran back into the forest!

When we reached Houston, the Real Big City On The Coast, we enjoyed the hospitality of my old college roommate, Andrew. For two days he and I talked and talked about our old classmates and professors, and one afternoon we ventured onto the Rice campus. The familiar old buildings were still there, but we were perplexed by all the new buildings — new, that is, since we graduated forty years ago! One evening we went to an Italian restaurant where I ate, for the first time, Saltimbocca, which (Al Sicherman once wrote) translates "jumps in the mouth." I didn't notice any jumping, but my mouth did savor the rich mushroom sauce over veal and spinach.

This was late February, and already the azaleas were beginning to bloom. On the road west, the grass beside the roadway was green, wildflowers were budding, birds were singing, and cows grazed with their calves.

In Lockhart I had lunch at Smitty's Barbecue, where you can see the fire that smokes the meat and the barbecue is authentic Texan — it's served without sauce, so you can fully appreciate the flavor of the meat. Another day I had a wonderful lunch at Friesenhaus, a German restaurant in New Braunfels, a small town settled by German immigrants beginning in 1845. Over in the tiny town of Shiner, I toured the brewery that makes what some say is Texas's finest beer, Shiner Bock.

San Antonio is a big city with a charming old downtown. As we drove around, sightseeing, I spotted the famed Riverwalk out the window and longed to walk it myself. But there was no place to park the RV on the narrow streets, so we just continued driving around. (Perfect occasion for a motor scooter — ride downtown on the scooter and park it easily. I still want a scooter!)

Then we left civilization behind and headed west on a long and desolate road. As I gazed out through the windshield at desert and sky, hour after hour, I pondered the similarity with the pioneers who passed this way long ago — we both carried our belongings and lodging with us and sat up front, doggedly following the trail west. Besides, the road I was on was probably built on their trail.

We were headed for southern New Mexico.