Archive: June, 2018 - Gary Borders

Dale Watson and Steers at the Stockyard

FORT WORTH — At 11:30 a.m. and 4 p.m. each day, the Longhorn steers at the Fort Worth Stockyards take a leisurely stroll down the brick streets of Exchange Avenue, flanked by cowboys on horses keeping a watchful eye on the herd — and the folks gathered on the sidewalk to watch. I suspect the cowboys are more worried about the two-legged creatures doing something dumb than the Longhorns making a break for it. It is obvious these magnificent creatures are well fed. Other than two 15-minute (at most) walks in the searing heat, life is pretty darned good for these bovine. Somehow I have managed...

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‘Gone to Texas’ 50 Years Ago

Fifty years ago this week, our family left New Hampshire and crossed into Texas, pulling a U-Haul trailer with our teal-green 1964 Mercury Comet. It took about 10 days and nearly 2,000 miles on the road. The first stop was for lunch at a café in downtown Linden since, as usual, we three boys — 12, 10 and 4 — were hungry. (I’m the oldest.) We all ordered hamburgers and fries. When the food arrived, I was non-plussed to find my burger loaded with lettuce, tomatoes and onions. What? A salad on a hamburger? My mother informed me that was a “Texas burger.” I picked off the offending vegetables...

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Lightning Bugs and Mimosa Trees: Summer Arrives

Summer officially arrives next week, about three weeks after it actually showed up, following an unusually cool and wet month of May. After a half-century enduring Texas summers, the heat and humidity still compel me to go into endurance mode for about four months. I continue to work outside in the yard or around the house, come back soaked from CrossFit, and gulp down tumblers of unsweet iced-tea. About 5 o’clock each day, I jump into the swimming pool, trying in vain to get my money’s worth out of it. Then I sit outside for an hour or so, with a fan blowing and listen to NPR while reading. It’s...

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Taking Two Boys Out to The Ballgame

MINUTE MAID PARK — I was 12 when Dad took me to my first major-league game, in September 1967. At least, it is the first game I recall. It is possible we attended a game at Fenway Park when I was younger. A faint memory remains. Sadly, there is nobody left to ask. My brother Scott and our buddy Bruce Courtemanche also attended that next-to-last game of the season. Improbably, the Red Sox as we watched could tie for first place by beating the Twins. The Red Sox in a pennant race was not something my dad imagined when he bought the tickets early in the season. The Sox were perennial cellar dwellers...

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