After spending three days in Big Bend National Park, I stayed the night in Marathon, then headed east on U.S. 90. It took me past Amistad Reservoir, which I wanted to see. Unfortunately, all I can tell you is it’s a big lake. I realized it would take considerable time, maybe days, to appreciate the area, and I was on a strict schedule to make it to Omaha for Thanksgiving with family. I stayed that night in Hondo, Texas, just west of San Antonio at a place called the Quiet Texas RV Park. It is about a mile off the highway, and, yes, for once, there was no train track within earshot. I had dinner that evening at Heavy’s Bar-B-Que, served up by Heavy himself. Sliced brisket, hot links, cole slaw, beans, two slices of white bread, and sweet tea for the princely sum of $11, and it was goo—ood!
It began to rain as I drove through San Antonio the next morning, and the rain would follow me into Houston, and stick around, on and off, as long as I did. I’d arranged to park my RV in the driveway of my college roommate, Jimmy, for the three nights I’d be in town. Jimmy and his wife, Carla, essentially insisted that I take a room in the house, and I have to say it was greatly appreciated, particularly having my own private bathroom - something I’d not had since I’d moved out of my house on October 1st. Jimmy is a successful Houston lawyer, though he’s currently in a phase where he’s investing more into the practice than he’s getting out, in the ( justifiable ) hope of getting significant returns in the coming years. That’s a way of saying that with me showing up on a Thursday afternoon, he had business commitments that day and the next that couldn’t be ignored.
Since I had some time to kill Thursday afternoon, I stopped by my college campus, Rice University. Not only did I want to see what changes had taken place ( a lot! ), but I knew a friend I hadn’t seen in almost forty years worked in the business school library there. Elise is one of a group of friends that attended the Episcopal chapel near campus, Autry House, with me while we were in college. I had warned her by email that I might be showing up, and when I found her office, we were both delighted to see each other again. She gave me the deluxe tour of the business school library, which is nearly brand new, and we had no trouble filling a couple hours catching up on each other’s lives, kids, and mutual friends that one or the other of us had kept up with. We also arranged that we’d get together with other Autry House friends for lunch on Saturday.
When I got back to the parking lot, I could hardly believe my eyes: I’d left my headlights on ( turned on during the rain ) for two-plus hours. Boy, I must really have been distracted - the van even has a chime to warn you. I held my breath as I turned the key and… it started right up. I got lucky this time, and vowed there wouldn’t be another.
Shortly afterward, I pulled up in front of Jimmy’s house, not knowing if he’d be home yet or not. He wasn’t, but Carla answered the doorbell, and invited me in. I learned that Carla’s mother, Claudine, is living with them now. Claudine, among other charms, is a fantastic piano player and treated us all to an impromptu concert the next night. Carla called Jimmy to let him know I’d arrived, which I think hurried him along because he showed up shortly. Meanwhile, Carla and I visited, while Carla looked after her mother, who needs some help from time to time.
When Jimmy showed up, we hugged like brothers, shared around a bottle of wine, and swapped stories. I’d visited before just a year and half ago for a big birthday party of Jimmy’s, but we never lack for something to talk about. Carla served up a delicious homemade meal: beef bourguignon, if I remember right, or something similar. Jimmy and I stayed up late (for me) continuing to visit. Even though I slept in strange bed that night, it was wonderfully comfortable and I slept soundly.
Since I knew Jimmy would be working the next day, I’d arranged to visit a couple of friends that had moved from San Diego to Houston a few months earlier. Karen and David live in the northwest corner of the city. I noticed the previous day that Houston had built a lot of toll roads since I’d lived there, and I had to contend with them, and the rain, on the drive up. Since the route was unfamiliar to me, I relied on my GPS (yes, I forgot to mention, before I left Carlsbad, NM, I finally downloaded a Garmin navigation app onto my iPad, and I don’t know how I lived before without it), but on this trip, it directed me onto a toll road, which, on general principle, I detest. If I were President ( I think I’m 307 millionth in the line of succession ), my first act would be to banish all toll roads. My second act would be to resign, so someone else would have to deal with all the tax deficits that resulted. Well, not only did the GPS direct me onto a toll road, it directed me to an exit that was clearly marked for use only by vehicles with a prepaid pass. What! This was too much! There are exits you can use only if you know the secret handshake?!! Forget that; I blew right through that exit, license plate cameras and all. And so began my life of ( petty ) crime. I blatantly, and defiantly, violated the prepaid pass rule, again under the direction of my GPS, the next day on my way to south Houston. I’ve also violated it at least once in the state of Florida, which has a similar system. Now don’t get me wrong, if there is a civilized toll booth that will make change when necessary, I will ( grudgingly ) pay the toll. But when a road sign tells me, “Oh, by the way, you’re not allowed to use this exit, proceed twenty miles past your destination and turn around.” my reply is, “Oh, yeah, well, catch me!” I understand that it can take up to three months for citations to reach the scofflaw, so they very well might. In the meantime, I’ve found the setting in my GPS for “Avoid tolls”, but that is not 100% effective.
Anyway, back to my visit to Karen and David, who are not in anyway complicit in my nefarious deeds. David, in fact, is ex-FBI, and now is a professional painter ( artistic, not house ) who does some really amazing work. Karen for many years ran the gift shop at the San Diego church we attended, in which my wife and both daughters worked for a time. Now she runs a similar business online and through craft shows, importing many fine pieces from Mexico and Central America. They have a truly lovely house in a very nice neighborhood, emphasizing how much farther a housing dollar goes in Houston than in San Diego. They also have two of the cutest dogs I’ve ever seen. After giving me the tour, we went to a very good Mexican restaurant nearby where we caught up on all that had happened. They wanted all the latest news about my daughters; they had attended my older daughter’s wedding last August, just before they moved away. In their own lives, they were particularly excited about the new church they are attending in Houston. Among many other reasons, not to drop names, but it is the church that President George Bush Sr. and Barbara attend, as well as Jim Baker and his wife. Unconventionally, the church has to discourage looky-loo’s by requiring attendance at a class before you can become a member. I had a wonderful time with Karen and David, and I think it’s fair to say we’re closer friends now than before they moved away.
With Karen and David’s helpful directions, I avoided toll roads on the drive back into town. That evening there were plans to go to dinner with Carla and Jimmy, and one of Carla’s friends. As the visitor, it was my choice, and I chose Pappadeux’s, which serves wonderful Cajun food, of which I’m a big fan. Though the parking lot was packed full and it was a Friday night, we were shown right to a table without a reservation. It was a wonderful meal; I had Boudin sausage as an appetizer and jumbalaya as my entree. After dinner, we went back to Jimmy and Carla’s place and had a long, lively, rambling conversation. A highlight, was the piano concert Claudine put on, that I mentioned earlier, and Carla - also an accomplished pianist - sat beside her for a duet. Jimmy is an avid book collector, and another highlight for me was when he brought out a book that he said is one of his most treasured pieces. It was an autographed collection of Henny Youngman jokes that I’d gotten for Jimmy thirty-five years ago when I’d seen the comedian in concert.
This post is already running long, but I’ve got to throw in a story about the Henny Youngman concert. I saw him when I was in graduate school. It was a spur of the moment thing. I just happened to walk past the auditorium where people were filing in, it was free, and I had nothing better to do. I grabbed an aisle seat in case I wanted to leave early. I thought of Henny Youngman as dated, past his prime; a comedian for my parents’, or even my grandparents’, generation. He came out and launched right into his jokes. No setups, no segues, no waiting while the audience laughed, just one joke after another. Most were one-liners, none were more than three sentences; another joke about every five seconds. As I expected, they were corny, dated, and I’d heard many of them before. But, his timing was impeccable, and there is something about that kind of barrage that gets past your conscious mind and your critical judgement and starts working at a much deeper level. Before long, I was chuckling, then laughing out loud, then doubled over weeping with laughter. When he got to his trademark, cliched line, “Take my wife, please!” the audience of college kids exploded with laughter; you’d think it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard, and in some sense it might have been. My ribs and throat were sore the next day from laughing so much.
I’d made arrangements to meet Elise and other Autry House friends for lunch on Saturday. She is married to Louis, who also attended Autry House; and as an added bonus the daughter, Dorothy, and the widow, Vivian, of our college chaplain, John Worrell, were going to join us. Unfortunately, he passed away a few years ago, but was loved and respected by everyone who knew him. How a small group of college students rated to have such a talented and intellectual man as their full-time chaplain I still can’t explain. He definitely is among the handful of men that have most influenced my life. So, the five of us had a great time reminiscing and catching up. With the help of my tripod, I got a photo of all of us ( finally! a photo in this post! ):
That’s Louis on the left, then Elise, Vivian, Dorothy, and myself. I hadn’t seen any of these folks for almost forty years. What a treat!
Saturday night, Carla encouraged Jimmy and me to head out on our own. Jimmy had mentioned a TexMex food place, El Tiempo, and that sounded good to me. This was not just a random restaurant, we had a shoestring connection to it. In college, one of our friends had dated the very attractive daughter of the proprietor of a Mexican restaurant that was just starting out: Ninfa’s. Ninfa’s went on to become one of the most acclaimed Mexican restaurants in Houston. A while ago, the family sold Ninfa’s, but one of the sons opened El Tiempo right next door. The night Jimmy and I went, it was doing a land office business. Jimmy knew to order the queso and chips as an appetizer, which was superb, and I had the carnitas fajitas for my entree. I’ve eaten a lot of Mexican food in my life in a lot of different places, but this was far and away the best I’ve ever had.
Sunday morning, I had tentatively planned to attend the service at Autry House. Not so much to see the old place, but to meet the current chaplain who happens to be the son of two of my other friends from college years at Autry House. However, doing a little research showed that the college service he presided at wasn’t until Sunday evening, and I definitely had to be in Dallas by then. It all worked out well, because Carla and Jimmy had a birthday brunch at their house for Claudine on Sunday morning, so I got to see Jimmy’s sons and Carla’s daughters, some of whom I hadn’t seen since attending Jimmy and Carla’s wedding, not to mention some new grandkids I’d never seen before. I made the mistake of volunteering to help with preparations, and got assigned to carve a smoked turkey. At family functions, I had always avoided being the one to carve the turkey, but I dove in, tried to remember what I could from TV cooking shows, and I don’t think I messed it up too bad.
By Sunday noon I was on my way to Dallas. I had arranged to visit my graduate school roommate from Georgia Tech, Paul, and his family there. As with other friends, Paul and I had reconnected through Facebook after many years of no communication. I had never met his wife, Ruth, or his lovely daughters, Jennifer and Michelle, but was immediately made to feel like one of the family. They offered me a glass of wine and then treated me to a delicious home cooked meal. It was particularly special with Paul’s entire family gathered around the table. After dinner, I gave them a slideshow of highlight photos from my trip and they were very appreciative. Then we watched a football game together. Michelle is a particularly vocal fan. She’s also an art student, and had an exhibition and review of an installation piece coming up. She showed me photos, and though I’m way out of my depth, it looked fantastic.
I slept that night in my RV by their front curb, which, of course, is quite comfortable for me. By the time I knocked at their front door the next morning, Ruth had gone off to work, but Paul, who is semi-retired, was home and we spent another couple hours trading stories and catching up. It was a great time.
The remainder of that day, and the next two were all about getting from point A to point B. The first night out of Dallas I stayed near Guthrie north of Oklahoma City, and the second night in Mayetta, north of Topeka. I fought gusty crosswinds the whole way, and the temperature dropped consistently the further north I got. The final drive from Mayetta to Omaha the day before Thanksgiving was the worst: gusting winds, rain, and below freezing temperatures. Thankfully, my sister’s husband, Kelly, was home when I arrived and warmed me up with a hearty lunch. My sister, Liz, arrived home shortly from work, as did her daughter Keelin and her husband Brandon who are living in the house after recently moving back from Florida. It was great to be among family and off the road. Liz had a spare bedroom for me to stay in, and even had arranged for me to park my RV in a vacationing neighbor’s driveway. It was wonderful relaxation after a nasty couple of days.
I woke the next morning, though, virtually certain that I had screwed up. The temperature that night had dropped into the teens and I hadn’t thought to turn on any heat in the van. Chances were good that the plumbing had frozen. Sure enough, when I opened the van to inspect, the tale was told by a tiny icicle hanging from the galley faucet. What damage had been done? I couldn’t tell because water in the van was in solid form. The fresh water pump was probably ruined. Even worse, there might be one or more ruptures in plumbing hidden in the walls of the van. That would be an expensive mess to fix, but I couldn’t deny that I deserved it. It would have been so easy to run a heater in the van overnight, or even better, drain the tanks and pump air into the plumbing. Belatedly, I arranged to plug in at my sister’s house for a heater, hoping to avoid any further damage, but that meant parking in their driveway which necessitated shuffling cars throughout the holiday weekend. So, what was the final resolution? I’m going to leave that as a cliffhanger for a future post when I finally had things put right again while I was in Memphis, but I will say it was a rather surprising outcome.
I managed to put all of this out of my mind and enjoy Thanksgiving anyway. My nephew, Burke, and his fiancee, Jesse, arrived, and my other nephew Aaron and his girlfriend, Sarah, did too. So did Aaron’s ex-wife, Serena, and their young son, Jason. Yes, that’s right, in my family everyone gets along almost unbelievably well. Kelly’s parents, Jack and Bev, joined us for our early afternoon dinner, as did one of Kelly’s brothers, Neil, and his wife and two twenty-something kids. Keelin was there too, though Brandon had to work that day. So we had a great group, and large quantities of fantastic food were consumed. That evening we went to the home of Kelly’s sister for his family’s traditional dessert buffet, so I got to see many of his siblings and their spouses.
Friday, Kelly, Burke, Jesse, and I went to see a movie: Interstellar, which if you’ve seen it, you know provides fodder for a lot of post-movie conversation. We also watched the Nebraska vs Iowa football game. It was an exciting, back and forth game, and Nebraska squeaked out a win in overtime. Friday evening, I had my third annual reunion with Mary and Jim, two of the kids of my Episcopal priest when I was growing up. His other daughter, Annie also made a brief appearance to exchange keys with Mary. Mary is an attorney with the city and Jim is CFO for an insurance company, so they’ve done well for themselves. Our traditional meeting place is Big Fred’s Pizza, which became embedded in my subconscious when I was growing up as the very definition of pizza. This is another example of friendships that have strengthened with age, and though our lives intersect very little, we’re never lacking topics of conversation and having a great time.
Saturday, I got together with my best friend from high school, David. It’s been a long tradition for me to be in Omaha for Thanksgiving, so I’d last seen him a year ago. Our first destination was Lauritzen Gardens, which I’d never seen before. They have extensive grounds to tour, but late November isn’t the season. They also have a large greenhouse, so we limited our tour to that:
The wood carvings were already in the Christmas spirit:
In fact the entire visitor center is lavishly decorated for the holidays, and features models made from sticks of Omaha buildings, with a toy train running past them:
The center is also famous for their poinsettia tree:
David and I finished our visit with desserts from the small restaurant there. On the way out, I was impressed by a pair of wicker elephants:
Because our visit to the Lauritzen Gardens hadn’t taken as long as we’d anticipated, we decided to tour Omaha’s Old Market area, too, which I hadn’t seen in years. The first place we stopped was the Mangelsen photography gallery. I’m a fan of nature photography, and the prints on display were breathtaking. If I weren’t confined by the space in the RV, I would have been a customer for sure. We then went to a succession of art galleries in the area, and I was suprised to find that my friend David was not only a customer of them, but on a first name basis with several of the managers. There definitely are some very fine pieces. David has a small collection in his house, which he showed me the next day.
For Sunday afternoon, I had arranged to visit another high school friend, Barb, that I hadn’t seen since graduation. I was pleased when David readily agreed to come along; he had known Barb, too. We drove the sixty miles to Lincoln in my RV so he got to see what that was like. I’d known Barb because she’d been right there in all the tough physics and calculus classes that were still considered to be primarily “guy” subjects even in the early 70’s. She went on to get her Ph.D. in pharmacology, and now travels the state checking that elder care facilities are correctly dispensing their meds. Here was yet another spouse I hadn’t met, her husband, Mark. This guy I had to like as he rolled out his homemade wine, then beer, then mead for us to sample. He also gave us a taste of dried jalapeno slices from peppers grown in his garden, and ended up sending along a jar with me. I sprinkle them on food anytime I need to reignite my pilot light. They have a lovely house, and they personally have redecorated much of the interior. Barb also has a hobby of stained glass and many of her beautiful pieces decorate the home. Here’s a photo of the four of us, with one of Barb’s cabinet fronts at the right:
That’s David, Barb, Mark, and myself. To top off the whole wonderful day, Barb served up two types of homemade pizza before David and I hit the road back to Omaha.
I had the flexibility in my schedule to stay longer in Omaha, but as frigid as it was, I was anxious to head back to warmer weather. That trip south, and visits to more friends, will be the subjects of my next post.
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