Wimberley Event; Canyon Lake; New Braunfels; Petit Fours; Bluebonnets; A History Lesson; Doe-Eyed Looks; Lutefisk and Snow

Wednesday evening saw us at the lovely Unity of Wimberley, Texas, for our first tour event. Rev. Ellen Debenport greeted us warmly; she is an accomplished writer, and just this month authored an excellent article on Suzanne's work in Unity Magazine.  Click here












 

The positive energy from the large crowd of 75 friendly and enthusiastic attendees was evident. They loved Suzanne's Making the Connection presentation, and we were made to feel at home with wonderful Texas hospitality.





New Braunfels is located only a half hour away, and today we drove over to check out the ville. It has a strong German heritage, and we stumbled onto Naegelin's, the oldest bakery in Texas...










... and amazingly, they had some incredible pastries. Not wanting to be an ugly tourist who just looks and doesn't buy, we had to leave with an elephant ear and a petit four. Oh, yum!










New Braunfels also has some interesting watering holes; we didn't sample the libations or the chili, but the sign looked inviting.










On the drive back home, we passed several fields of bluebonnets (Lupinus subcarnosus), the same wildflower shown, but not identified, in the previous blog. It is also the state flower of Texas, and the shape of the petals resembles the bonnets worn by pioneer women to shield themselves from the sun.

For the past three days, our coach has been connected to all necessary services at the military recreation area at Canyon Lake, about an hour north of San Antonio. The facility services active duty service personnel and their families at Fort Sam Houston and Randolph Air Force Base, as well as lucky retirees like us. Due to drastic cutbacks in the military budget and the number of active duty personnel over the past 3 years, there are fewer service people using this facility. Only 3 of 12 RV spots are filled right now, all retirees. With the downsizing of our military, it's good that we're on such good terms with the rest of the world; does anybody else remember Neville Chamberlain's "Peace for Our Time" speech to his fellow Britons upon returning from Berlin in 1938? "This morning I had another talk with the German Chancellor, Herr Hitler... I believe it is peace for our time... Go home and get a nice quiet sleep." That was sure on the mark, wasn't it? Let's see, in that war we saved the Russians; maybe this time they'll save us. Hmmm... and then, maybe not?  Sigh... 



Quote for the day: "Those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it." Edmund Burke















Here's a view of our campground the other evening around dusk.  These gals were out for a stroll and got Rudy all excited; Gretchen was strangely silent - perhaps courtesy to other females? I'm not saying that they were out cruising, but these young things gave me several doe-eyed looks...

Finally, as if that last comment were not humorous enough, I have to acknowledge an email from Loyal Reader Terri of the Frozen North, AKA TOTFN, a resident of the occasionally fair but usually frozen and cloudy city of Coon Rapids, Minnesnowta, of which the Twin Cities, Greater Minneapolis/St Paul, is a small suburb. Terri advised me that Minneapolis had been voted the Healthiest City in the USA, based on its incredible park system, good food choices and exercise opportunities. Park system: okay, there are lots of green spaces; good food choices: if you've ever sampled lutefisk, you know why the Vikings left Norway and began plundering the rest of Europe - to get a decent meal; and exercise opportunities: okay, but who wants to be snowed in for 9 months of the year and have to dig your way out from under snowbanks and then snowshoe to get to the grocery - in July? (If the word "snow" appears somewhat repetitious in this paragraph, there's a reason.) Also, the ratings don't count those thousands of residents who perish of frostbite, hypothermia, falling icicles, snowmobile accidents, being run down by toboggans, falling through holes in the ice while fishing, killed by rampaging moose, or being eaten by wolves... I guess this won't endear me to the Coon Rapids or Twin Cities Chambers of Commerce.

Columbus, Texas; San Antonio; Purple Hearts; Riverwalk; The Alamo; MTB'ing

We departed Scott, Louisiana, in company with the Blythes in their motor coach, full of homemade pies and cafe au lait, swearing to take it easy on food consumption for a few days. Suzanne was driving on the way through Lake Charles, so when I glanced up and saw this sign, I knew better than to mention it, or I'd get smacked... but that threat didn't stop me from taking a quick snapshot and thinking, "Only in Louisiana could a towing company get away with a billboard like that..."









Our first stop in Texas was not the main tourist welcome center, but was a treat nevertheless. We were somewhere north of Galveston, and all the buildings in the rest area looked like this one, charming reproductions of Gulf Coast Texas houses.

Afternoon came and we stopped about 75 miles past Houston, in Columbus, Texas, a very nice all-American town of 4,000 with lots of flags, manicured lawns and very little traffic. This building is the old Stafford Opera House, and the home next to it was cattle rancher Robert Stafford's. He built both buildings, and designed them so that he could watch the Opera House stage from his living room. 








Our next stop was San Antonio, where our two coaches found a beautiful campground for three nights at Fort Sam Houston, the home of military combat medic training for all of the four services. It is now part of Joint Base San Antonio, but everyone still calls it "Fort Sam". There is a large military hospital here for wounded warriors, and this was only one of several parking spaces outside the base PX reserved for combat wounded veterans. 










 

My reason for going to the PX was a critical need for new toys for Rudy and Gretchen; their old squeaky rabbits were coming apart from overuse. They were ecstatic to receive their new squeaky squirrels, but within 5-8 minutes, both were disemboweled and the squeakers destroyed. Rudy is probably thinking, "What did you expect we were going to do with them? This is what Dachshunds do!"

After taking care of the pups, the adults took a walking tour of the Riverwalk area of San Antonio. It was a chilly and windy day, and our fleeces and down jackets were used for the first time this trip.














The Riverwalk has an unusual juxtaposition of buildings, some based on colonial Spanish architecture and some very modern office designs.

The Cathedral of San Fernando is an interesting reminder of San Antonio's past. One of the oldest active cathedrals in the USA, it was built between 1738 and 1750. In 1831, Jim Bowie married Ursula de Varamendi in San Fernando; five years later, Mexican General Santa Anna hoisted the flag indicating "No quarter" from the cathedral's bell tower, hours before Bowie, William Travis, Davy Crockett and 200 other Texians were killed at the Battle of the Alamo just down the street. (Texians were non-Hispanic white residents of Mexican Texas and later, the Republic of Texas.)

Most were out of ammunition and wounded, and then they were bayoneted and shot and their bodies burned; but the Texians took with them about 150 Mexican dead and 300 wounded, a very high exchange rate considering the men in the Alamo were under an artillery barrage. Santa Anna later said the fight "was but a small affair." One of his officers said in an aside, "With another such victory as this, we'll go to the devil." Six weeks later, an outraged Texian army yelling "Remember the Alamo" routed a much larger Mexican force at San Jacinto in just 18 minutes and captured Santa Anna, who asked for mercy, and was allowed to depart in disgrace, on the condition that all Mexican troops would return to Mexico.  

The Riverwalk was thronged with turistas, and the restaurants crowded with people waiting to pay $35 for a rack of ribs that would go for $14 back at Oakwood in The Villages. So, we decided to forgo an expensive meal out and had dinner back in the coach. Thanks again to Claudette Prejean LeBlanc in Scott, LA, for her delicious grillades that she sent with us.









On Monday, Suzanne and I drove to McAllister Park to try out its mountain bike trail.  We were thrilled by the scenery and the windy paths that circled this heavily wooded park. There were lots of ups and downs as well as some rock gardens that made us keep our focus...

But the best photo of the day came when this Bike Beauty posed in a field of wildflowers. What a romantic spot... and I forgot the picnic lunch, wine and blanket. Darn!

Heading West; Scott, Louisiana; Hadacol; Peafowls; Boudin and Cracklins; A Young Beauty; Pie Day!

On Wednesday morning, we struck camp and headed west on I-10. In a couple of hours we were texting with our good friends and neighbors Bob and Jan Blythe, who were driving their new Thor motor coach from Florida to New Mexico and Arizona. They were on I-12 about 30 miles from us, and on a converging course. We met up in a campground in Scott, Louisiana, just outside Lafayette in the heart of Cajun country, traditionally called Acadiana. We had been invited to visit Claudette Prejean LeBlanc, a "ya-ya" friend of another Villages neighbor, Reve' Norman. While visiting Florida, Claudette had prepared an amazing dinner of  grillades and grits, a famous Creole dish that we had enjoyed immensely. She promised more Cajun dishes if we visited her in her home town of Scott. That meal was scheduled for Thursday night, so when we arrived in Scott the day before, we invited Claudette over for a campfire dinner, and got to use our grill and picnic table. 

We learned over dinner that Claudette's father-in-law was Dudley LeBlanc, four-term state senator and inventor of Hadacol, a 1940s/50s patent medicine and vitamin supplement that by happenstance contained 12% alcohol, not that the addition of that substance made it more desirable in the dry counties and parishes of the South in that era. The name came from Senator Leblanc's former company, Happy Day Headache Powder.  Many readers may recall the Hadacol Caravan, the last of the big time "medicine shows", which toured the US and had Bob Hope, Mickey Rooney, Roy Acuff, Minnie Pearl, Carmen Miranda, George Burns, Gracie Allen, Judy Garland, Jack Dempsey, Hank Williams and James Cagney among its performers. The only way you could get into the show was with a Hadacol boxtop, and they usually played to 10,000 people a night. I don't think Geritol ever had the impact as Hadacol. 


The next morning provided an opportunity to visit one of my old stomping grounds, Avery Island, where Tabasco sauce is produced. (Some readers may recall my meeting a 15 foot long alligator "up close and personal" on that visit.) Bob and Jan had never been there, so we took the tour and learned that Tabasco sauce is shipped to 160 countries around the world, and its labels are printed in 22 languages. 







The production line was shut down for lunch during our tour, but we still got to see the bottling line where up to 160,000 bottles are prepared for shipping daily.










After lunch of crawfish etouffe', boudin, and red beans and rice, we continued our tour with a brief stop at Jefferson Island, with its landmark Rip van Winkle Gardens (where pirate Jean Lafitte's treasure is said to have been buried) and the Joseph Jefferson mansion, built by the world-famous actor in the 1870s (after the War of Northern Aggression). 








The gardens are also famous for peafowl (Pavo cristatus); this beauty displayed his plumage as soon as we approached within 50 feet. The male displays and quivers his fan-like crest of feathers during courtship, but the less colorful females were keeping their distance, at least while we were there. (Asserting their modesty, I am sure.)

The peafowl turned to show off his tail feathers; I suggested that he might be mooning Bob, but this was not well-received by my travel mates...















Our touring completed, we arrived at Claudette's family home in Scott and met her daughter Stephanie with her new foster daughter Riley, who is only five months old but already a beautiful and charming young lady.  

Claudette was serving an amazing selection of Cajun cuisine; this plate of appetizers included two types of boudin and cracklins, which the Yankee contingent of our group had never before sampled. They were truly yummy, and we could have made a meal of the appetizers alone, but Claudette had more surprises to come...

















... the main course was a delicious  Cajun crab dish with onion-y potatoes, green beans and salad, followed by a very nice sorbet. It was a fun evening, made extra special by Claudette's gracious hospitality and Stephanie's vivacious company. We also learned of an Acadian Good Friday tradition, which we decided to experience the next morning...








... PIE DAY!!! One of Claudette's dear friends and neighbors, Paul Begnaud, is 93, and continues the Jour de Tarte that began in France in the mid-12th Century. With work being prohibited on Good Friday, Holy Thursday was used to prepare the meals for the following day.  Fruit pies were very popular since there was no refrigeration to ensure safe meals. Paul's grandmother began the tradition in Scott over 100 years ago, which was continued by his mother and sister. Everyone in town is invited to partake, from 0730-1500 on Good Friday; we got there early just in case!

 

Paul's home (formerly a bank building) is now the site of a day-long process of assembling and baking over 100 pies, including blackberry, fig, chocolate, custard, and coconut. Here Suzanne, Claudette and Claudette's sister-in-law Marlene admire many of the pies awaiting their consumption; I briefly considered stuffing a chocolate pie under my shirt and ducking out a back door, but knew I could never get away with such a dirty deed on Good Friday...








Paul also loves art, and his eclectic collection covers the walls of his unique home, whose kitchen is located in the former bank vault.
















On the way out, we met Scott's Mayor, Purvis Morrison, and his wife Mary, two delightful people who were on their way to host a crawfish feast at their home.
















Our visit to the friendly town of Scott had been brief, but it was made especially memorable by Claudette's warm Southern (and especially Acadian) hospitality and fantastic cooking. We hope to see her and Stephanie again when they visit our mutual friend Reve' in The Villages. Until then, we will have to try some Cajun recipes from a Junior League Cajun cookbook Claudette gave Suzanne; and yes, I did get some frozen crawfish at Early's Cajun Supermarket on the way out of town!

Oh, one last note... while touring the area, we listened to a CD from Cajun comedian Dave Petitjean.  He related a study that proved that bald men were 80% more virile than men with hair. This news elated Bob, until the comic mentioned "Part 2"... that bald men also had 80% fewer opportunities to prove their virility. Ohhh noooo...... sorry, Bob!  Dave also noted that bald men should never wear a white turtleneck shirt.  Why?  Because they may be mistaken for a roll-on deodorant.

Graduation Photo; PT; Squirrels! Crawfish and Gumbo; Crabbing; "No Photos Here!" Camellia Grill; Boob Signing?

My 50th high school reunion had been fun, and just yesterday one of my classmates sent out an email with all of our yearbook photos. This particularly handsome young man stood out, of course... 

Lest you think that My Lovely Bride and I have succumbed to the unsurpassed debauchery and gluttony for which New Orleans is known, I’ll have you know that outside of reunion and family events, Suzanne has been giving readings to those on her waiting list.  Our spare time has been spent at the gym or running/biking on the Lakefront bike path or Metairie’s Lafreniere Park running path. Rudy and Gretchen, our miniature Dachshunds, love this park for its dozens of Eastern gray squirrels, 14 of which they got to chase this morning alone. They were on lead the whole time, and there was only one very close encounter, with our puppies charging to within a foot of one of the slowest or dumbest, who finally realized that he was about to become a statistic. Several species of flowers in the park were in bloom, which made for a lovely environment in which to chase rodents...

 

While at the park, I noticed this sign, which reflects some of the shortcomings of the public education system here, and why many parents elect to send their kids to private, parochial or charter schools... 

Okay, back to seafood,  a subject near and dear to the tummies of residents of New Orleans, as well as the hundreds of thousands of visitors who flock here… yesterday we had dinner at my sister Lynn’s with younger sister Karen and her partner Debbie, where we feasted on homemade cheesy crackers, spicy boiled crawfish, chicken gumbo over rice, potato salad and chocolate cake. 

Those familiar with Cajun crawfish (Procambarus clarkii) know that you break the critter in half, suck the head (to get the fat and spices out) and squeeze the tail (to get the tail meat out); after 2 or 3 repeats, your mouth is on fire with the taste of industrial-strength Cayenne pepper. “Pass me a cold beer, please, quickly!”  I ate lightly, not even approaching my record of 8 lbs of crawfish, four red potatoes and four ears of spicy corn boiled with the crawfish, along with a six-pack of beer, a record established 15 years ago on a previous visit. That really impressed Suzanne, by the way; we had only been married 2-3 years, and I suspect she was thinking, “I’ve never seen anyone eat like that… can I take this guy back to the Husband Store and get an exchange on one with a more reasonable appetite?”

Another favorite food here is the blue crab (Callinectes sapidus). Because they are running $50/dozen, Lynn decided that we should take her crab nets down to Lake Pontchartrain and catch our own like we used to do as kids. (You can see this coming, right?) Chicken necks are the bait of choice, but convincing the chickens to contribute to this effort isn’t the easiest part of the process. In any case, we set up on Monday at noon on the fishing pier near the Bonnabel Blvd. boat ramp. Rudy and Gretchen weren't much help crabbing because they couldn't reach over the railings to drop and raise the nets.

By 1500 (3:00 PM for you civilians), this was the only crab we had caught (and thrown back, of course). My theory is that because the weekend had been so beautiful, all of the crabs had been caught over the previous 2 days. My Lovely Bride suggested an alternative case- that since I was along, we were doomed to come up crabless. Sometimes she astounds me with her poor understanding of the complexities of fishing and crabbing.  

As we were driving home from the lake, this was the first house we encountered, a beautiful new home (post-Katrina) that were I interested in living here, I could be quite comfortable in... imagine the hurricane parties you could throw here!

 

Today we had several more family events. The first was bittersweet – bringing flowers to Hope Mausoleum on Canal Street, where my grandmother and great aunt are interred. An office person guided us to the first crypt, and as Lynn and I were placing flowers, Suzanne asked if we would like a photo taken. Before I could reply, an obnoxious attendant who had followed us in said loudly, “No photographs or we’ll have to escort you out right now!” We were dumbfounded; we were not allowed to take a photo of our relatives’ final resting places because the cemetery considered that a violation of their privacy rights? How stupid and insensitive is that!

We were allowed to take photos at our lunch stop, the famous Camellia Grill, where we had gone for hamburgers since we were little kids.  It looks much fancier outside than inside.

Here is one of the Camellia Grill's waiters transferring ketchup from one bottle to another, without a drop spilling. "Don't try this at home!", he warned. 

 

Lynn and Suzanne loved their burgers, and I was impressed by the red beans and rice with spicy sausage. I was also the unintended recipient of a chocolate freeze, like a milkshake, but you could only sip on it because it was so cold that it hurt going down your throat; but it was really yummy, similar to a frozen Newport Creamery "Awful Awful."

This photo is a portrait of a famous Camellia Grill waiter by the name of Word. He has been a waiter there for 25-30 years, and when you order, he replies, “Word”. That refers to a 1980s song, Word Up. We had met him on previous visits, and the first time we heard his unusual reply, Suzanne had to call back to her assistant at the Pentagon for a translation of the terms “Word” and “My bad”, which made for lots of laughter in her office. Unfortunately, Word was off today, so we didn’t get to renew our acquaintance.

Let's see... I mentioned debauchery in the first paragraph, and need to follow that thread for a moment. One of the great things about catching up with my sisters in New Orleans is hearing about some of their outrageous friends. Now, you have to put that adjective in perspective. New Orleans is an outrageous city to begin with, so when my sister Lynn told me this story, it had to be amazingly outrageous.  She was at a nice restaurant in the Quarter with five girlfriends, and one went to the ladies room to powder her nose. She was gone awhile, and Lynn became concerned. As she walked through the bar, there was her friend, with her very ample, thrice-enhanced bosom exposed, having it autographed with a large marks-a-lot by a New Orleans Saints football player… only in the French Quarter, right? Oh, and by the way… the lady in question is married, but hey, it was one of the Saints’ starters, so I guess that’s okay. I asked Lynn if she had gotten a photo of this event; she looked at me kinda funny and said something like, "Brotha, aren't you getting a little old for that?" "Never, dear sister!"