Home Again

Back from Houston and not sure whether my title refers to the coming or going. It was disconcerting to be driving back through streets that are more like a foreign country than a homecoming.

How did I forget about the traffic across Houston, the sprawl of the whole city, when I arranged a flight to arrive at IAH just in time to hit it all. There are patches that remind me so viscerally of the landscape of Idiocracy.

The upside was that Lynne and I had hours to catch up, time to pull over for a diet coke, and then time to pull over and find the bathroom...

I had Lynne take the Edgebrook exit and we drove around the grounds of what was once Easthaven Baptist School. The "yard" where we would play was still green, but the pavilion with the rafters we had swung from was long gone. The brand new building I remembered being opened in 1981 was so small and tired looking. The old chapel, which had always looked old, even when I entered its doors in 1975, didn't look nearly as worn. I tried telling Lynne about the dusty old basement underneath that magnetically drew us down there after school despite threats and warnings from all our teachers. It had creaky wooden floors and the narrowest staircase with rooms that hadn't been used for years, with children's tables and glass eyed naked baby dolls hanging out of play trunks. I told her the memory of the big boy who held the door so I couldn't get out and almost made me miss the bus and scared the crap out of me. I wish I could have broken in and poked around what must by now be exponentially more creepy nowadays.

We made it to the church to meet with Courtney and get the video camera from her so I could play the ideographic for her. Per Cjo's recommendation, we tried Terra del Luna (I think?) off of Bay Area and Saturn. Not a favorite, but since I'd nothing since the Starbuck's Pumpkin Spice Latte that morning and the diet coke on the drive, it was good enough. I'll skip the pumpkin latte next time, too. I'm just waiting for the Peppermint Mocha to hit the stores now.

By that time it was completely dark and we headed for the B&B in Seabrook, which is right off the part of the road that would be Nasa Rd. 1 on the other side of 146. You can't even see the garish lights of the boardwalk, just the dark waters of the bay. Stevie, the Old Parsonage House's owner, had left the keys in the mailbox and the porch lights on. We couldn't take in all the grounds by the time we got there, but the interior was beautiful and we both wanted the dark back bedroom. I took the front. Lynne was paying.

I stayed up late finishing the book I'd bought before my flight. The Good Thief is a quick read, very Dickensian in the vein of Oliver Twist, the drawback being, you don't put it down. I finally finished a little after 2:00 a.m. At 7:30 I was up, Lynne was already out on the porch, and I started taking pictures of the place. If I can get the uploaded to cooperate, I'll get some included.



My room. See the pretty flowers Lynne arranged to have waiting for us?



The foyer looking into my front room.


Looking from the foyer into the sitting room and kitchen.



The back yard.



Looking toward the front door from the back.

I loved the kitchen window.


Front morning in the morning sun.




Lynne still looks like she has a cigarette, even though she hasn't smoked in 4 months now, after a 40 year habit.


Lynne's room




We lounged, read, sipped on coffee, showered, and headed out mid-morning for the tour of the old stomping grounds. We took Hwy 3 up to the corner where the VFW and Pe-te's had been forever, although the old cajun dancing place was now an H&H. We turned and slipped past San Jacinto South and a discussion of playing softball on the Brio toxic site. After a brief stop in Scarsdale whose retail seems to skew entirely Asian, we rolled down Beamer and turned right on Hughes toward Sagemont and Thompson and traced the back road I used to walk home after junior high.

I'd stood before the old house last summer when I was down for the reunion. This time, we didn't slow down. Four trucks, one in semi-disrepair, filled the driveway, with a pitbull roaming about the legs of some very tough looking men who were working on the truck. We headed for the even older house on Kirkdale which looked a hundred times better cared for than the one on Sageville. Up past the old Dobie building, over past Beverly Hills, down Buene Vista to the Wilbanks house, which looks like the best kept place in 20 square miles, albeit nearly unrecognizable from the home where I spent so many hours.

Then it was time to hit Almeda Mall. We were pulling past what was once the Best Store when Lynne revealed her misgivings about even stopping the car. There was a pall about the endless concrete, the building that was once Penney's without any signage, as though the shell was all that remained. Across the way, Almeda West Theater was nothing but a delapidated building waiting for demolition. But the Picadilly sign was exactly the same. We entered through the food court and I started snapping pictures. The locals looked at us a little strangely, partly because we were so clearly not the prevailing demographic, and because I kept taking pictures of things like the glass dome and benches and clocks.

Lynne and I got our pictures taken in the photo booth in front of where Liberace once stood in the Piano Store, across the way from where Doctor's Pet Center once was. Everything is empty there now. I stood in front of the huge empty area that was once Woolworths, the brick wall that was once H&H, and felt empty myself.

That was about all I could take and it was 1:00, so we went in search of sustenance. The Joe's Crab Shack fit the bill and then we returned to the house to nap, refresh, and prettify for the evening wedding.

We got to the church about 5:45 and get up in the balcony, which was where we had to sit in order to film. I was sweating the end, because I hadn't brought in a second tape and I was watching the minutes ticking down. Courtney and Nathan couldn't stop smiling at one another. They are a lovely couple. With 4 minutes left on the tape, Mr. and Mrs. Smith got down the aisle and out of my viewfinder, so we meandered over to the Colloseum (yeah, you really spell it that way) for the reception. We enjoyed a wonderful meal, scrumptious cake, and watching the bride and groom's first dance before deciding we had to call it a night.



We got in after 11:00 and my feet were screaming. I didn't sleep well that night and woke up covered in a cold sweat twice. Not sure what was going on there. I woke around 8:00 and got the coffee and biscuits going before scratching Lynne's back to wake her up which she always gushes about. It was the way my Mom always woke me up and the way I wake everyone else up, too. Who wouldn't want to wake up to a gentle back scratch?

After another lovely morning in the cool breezes and sun, it was time to pack up and hit the road. The weekend ended so quickly, I'm still processing what little time I had. I wish I could have gotten together with more friends, visited longer, soaked up the gorgeous weather a few more days. Of course, that weather is already slipping away down there and up here we're expecting snow tonight. Home again.