The death of Neil Armstrong, the first man to walk on the moon, invariably brought back memories for those of us old enough to recall that event — especially if you were a space nut like me. I didn’t particularly want to be an astronaut. Well, I did, but quickly realized being myopic, not especially good at science and shrimp-sized were not exactly the Right Stuff that NASA sought.
I got hooked on space exploration after Alan Shepherd rode on the back seat of a red convertible in a parade through our hometown in New Hampshire, after his brief ride into space in the early 1960s. Then my Uncle...
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Mississippi Delta is shining like a National guitar
— “Graceland,” by Paul Simon
MEMPHIS, TENN. — We crossed that scary bridge (at least to us) over the Mississippi River, just as the sun was setting on a Friday evening and took the first exit into West Memphis, to downtown. Lighted, round horse-drawn Cinderella-like carriages vied for passengers with the electric trolleys that clang along Main Street. This was our last getaway of the summer, sans child, just my Beautiful Mystery Companion and me enjoying a quick trip to Memphis.
Apparently, we were the only tourists in town...
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The convent table is a bit battered and dirty. Dirt daubers have built homes beneath a few of the table’s leaves. A few pieces of the intricately carved cross-pieced legs have chunks missing. Several more are loose. For more than a decade, the convent table has sat unused in the carport’s storeroom behind my father in-law’s house. It begs for a twofold restoration. It deserves to be brought back to its former grandeur because it once was a handsome table, which with all its leaves likely could seat 16. And the convent table deserves to be inside a home, gracing a dining room, its surface...
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We made our summer pilgrimage to Schlitterbahn recently, a family tradition that consists of spending a day getting waterlogged at this venerable waterpark in New Braunfels. Then we feast at the Grist Mill in Gruene, which is not air-conditioned but worth the sweat. I am too old to ride real roller coasters. A trip down a Six Flags roller coaster a dozen years ago sent me to a chiropractor. But water slide rides offer staid thrills, not to mention relief from the heat.
My Beautiful Mystery Companion, daughter Abbie, and I stayed at a hotel up the highway in Buda because it was cheaper. Plus...
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This is the 45th August I have spent in Texas, nearly all here Behind The Pine Curtain. This month in East Texas is to be endured, not enjoyed — at least by this transplanted Yankee.
An aside: I have milked the Pine Curtain phrase — in dozens of columns, a couple of books, and a few magazine pieces — for so long that some younger folks think I coined it. I didn’t. First time I heard it was from a now-dead buddy — Michael Busby. Michael was a poet and scholar. We met at Stephen F. Austin State University in the early 1970s. He became the godfather of Kasey, my oldest daughter. Michael...
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