I took two books with me to San Antone. The first was Pox Americana by Elizabeth A Fenn. Its a very interesting investigation of a smallpox epidemic that circulated all over North America during the Revolutionary War. I skipped over some of the middle chapters.Â They were a little too thoroughÂ in describing the various routes by which different groups of infected soldiersÂ took the disease to uninfected regions. Consequently, I won’t add the book to my list of completely read books. I did finish most of the later chapters however.
I was particularly interestedÂ in the ebb and flow of the plains IndianÂ tribesÂ and the impact Smallpox had on them. I was also interestedÂ to learnÂ about the brutality of the Russian fur traders. The native Americans along the coast suffered tremendously from the pox.
I also began Misquoting Jesus by Bart Ehrman on theÂ flight back. The first two chapters were well written.Â I had recently read a fairlyÂ dismissive critique of Ehrman.Â The critique found little faultÂ with the first four chapters of his book but battered him on the rest of the book. I’ll reserve my judgement.
Pinch me. I have to remember that we took this trip as a vacation. Usually my better half lets me tag along when she travels for work. This time our schedule, when its not beingÂ delayed by aircraft maintenence problems, is our own.
Making a couple more stops after the Ranch to sample and purchase Texas wine we finally made our way back to San Antone by a little before eight. ItÂ had beenÂ aÂ long day, although a rewarding one. We ordered a room service dinner which we downed with some Texas cabernet.
We slept in late then walked over to the River Center next door for a Starbucks and muffin. From there we walked a blockÂ away to the Alamo. We got into the courtyard as a guide gave a good little talk on the subject. Notwithstanding my comment from a couple days ago I’d say it was an event very much worth remembering. I’d just amend that byÂ sayingÂ it ought to be remembered well.
After a little walk round we headed to the the block long stretch of La Villita that has art and craft shops. We picked up another pair of pottery mugsÂ from one shopÂ (we’re slowly replacing a bunch of miscellaneous old mugs two by two on our travels) and a fun little teapot which we are shipping home. (Several bottles of wine we’re carring back on the plane will beÂ more than enough to lug)
We we’re content to sit on our balcony overlooking the Riverwalk with its busy little tourist boats for lunch. We took in the sounds of distant traffic while we supped on sandwhich’s accompanied byÂ a nice Becker Vineyard Claret.
A pan piper playing the theme from the Good the Bad and the Ugly wafted up to us. It was from the South American musical troupe that was playing a block away in the River Center.
When we had our vente coffees at the same place this morning a tall white egret swooped over by our table while I fumbled fruitlessly to take its picture. As I commented to Claudia from our balcony this afternoon, San Antonio has one of the loveliest downtowns I’veÂ ever visited in a major American City.
We pulled into the LBJ Ranch joint National Park/State Park Visitor’s Center with five minutes to spare for the tour. The area was suffering from an infestation of caterpillars which dangled in the hundreds from the live oaks overhead.
We stopped at the reconstructed home that LBJ was born in. It was rebuilt by Johnson after his retirement from the Presidency. It was furnished with fancier furnisings than the more modestÂ stuff the Johnson’s owned at the time of LBJ’s birth in 1907. Johnson probably wanted to commemorate both the poverty ofÂ his own Lincolnesque “log cabin” beginnings as well as theÂ well-to-do life that his parents achieved.Â
We stopped at his family grave. His was the tallest stone in the plot but it was modest by the standards found in almost any big cemetary in the US. The 300 year-old live oaksÂ inside the stone fence surrounding the cemetaryÂ made it a lovely setting.
At the Ranch theÂ bus stopped so that we could wave to Ladybird who happened to be sitting on her porch with a friend in a rocking chair. We waved and she waved back. When she was younger (Ladybird is 93) she would often board busses to say howdy to the tourists.
I was reluctant to take a picture but in the last instant decided that she wouldn’t mind. It’s not the most flattering. I caught her just as she was nibbling at an envelope in her hand.
Our guide ended the tourÂ by playing the soapy Peter Paul and Mary rendition of Dylan’s Blowin in the Wind. Johnson never got to send me to Vietnam. Apparently he used to weep over the casualty lists. Damn him.
We drove pastÂ the drive-byÂ showroom he built for his old cars, a couple lincoln continentals a hunting car with a bar and a sky blue germanÂ vehicle with the prow. We heard a recording of some advisor telling about his visit to the Ranch and being driven around the Ranch in the car by LBJ. As Johnson drove towards a pond on the ranch he began yelling that the brakes had failed.
The visitor tried jumping out as the car splashedÂ into the water. Johnson roared with laughter and accused his guest of being too eager to abandon the President in his moment of crises.
Woke up at 6AM. Left at 8 and got to the Ladybird wildflower center in Austin shortly after it opened. We spent a couple hours looking at the natural landscape and trying to commit wild flower names to memory.
Ladybird took on the role of highway beautifier while she was the first lady. She tried to get rid of highway billboards and the wildflower center is one of her pet projects.
Five years of drought have made the bluebonnets and other wild flowers much less numerous but where they were well watered in the more formal plots in the center they were colorful.
We bought some gifts for friends and some fun garden stuff including our own garden armadillo to join Lebeau in our patio garden. We also bought a\ “Texas traveling music” CD’s which we intend to listen to while traveling through the Hill Country today. This one is a Willie Nelson CD dedicated to the wildflower center singing Tejas classics like the Yellow Rose of Texas.
Stops for wine tasting lay ahead. Texas Hills was the first winery after which we stopped at Johnson City to visit the Lyndon Johnson boyhood home.
I bought the third Caro book Master of the Senate at the visitor center and one of the Park Service Rangers told me about meeting the author a few years ago when he was doing research. Caro had broken his arm body surfing and the Ranger had heard this somehow. He had told Caro not to do any more surfing until he’d finished his tetrology on Johnson.
We slipped past the Ranch so I could make a stop at the Becker vineyard for a quick tasting before slipping back to the LBJ Ranch for the last bus tour of the day.
Walked a small portion of the river walk. Its beautiful. Ate at Casa del Rio. I think. (It was last night) Wonderful meal and cheaper than Taco Johns except for the Margaritas and Sangria. Made up the difference by paying to have a wonderful mariachi band give us two serenades. Even the braying grackles shut up for this performance.
SoonÂ we will be in Texas. Home of three recent presidents who all started their own wars. Hey, Texas, maybe its time to forget the Alamo!
Old habits die hard. I’m at the Airport in the Cities. (Should be on the plane to San Ann. Don’t ask) Tried to log on the the blog. I typed in “Lincoln Republican” by mistake. No such thing.Â I shuda known!
I’m getting up at 4AM tomorrow to fly out to San Antonio. The cat will be left in the tender mercies of my son. Don’t feel sorry for the cat!
I’ve tidied up my preparations for the Endowment meeting. Emails have been sent to all the potential recruiters and I put a message on the answering machine letting potential registrants know that I’ll get back Monday to add their names to the list. I even concluded my message with “Adios.” I do that all the time. It has nothing to do with the marches on Immigration or becaue I’m going to the Alamo. I wonder if we’ll see any remnants of the Immigration brouhaha this weekend?
I’m also hauling Claudia up to the Hill Country to see that other war president’s home – the LBJ Ranch. Its nestled in Texas’s best wine region so I’ll do a little sampling while there. I’ll ship a case of the Hill Country’s finest back home. Imagine, Texas with its own wine and cheese set! That should bring tears to the eyes of all the people in the blue states.
Incredible! I just discovered that I don’t have to e-mail myÂ posts. I can do it fromÂ our newÂ laptop. I’m such an old fogy! All the under 20 WordPressÂ users are justÂ rolling their eyes. You’ll get yours you little techies! YourÂ children will be able to do something even moreÂ remarkable in a couple decades. Maybe download babies instead of bothering withÂ caesarians.Â
My daughter Keely drove up yesterday. She had agreed to sing at our church this morning. Shortly after 9/11 I featured her high school choir on my main webpage for several months. Her choir had visited New York two years earlier. You can see why I put this particular photo on my main page. It also included an mpg of the choir singing Lost in the Night with Keely singing a solo.
She has a terrific soprano voice and as we were doing dishes yesterday evening we sang songs together that I used to sing to her and her brother when I put them to bed. Streets of Laredo, Big Rock Candy Mountain, and my favorite, Waltzing Matilda were just a few.
After we warbled she got very enthused about my taking voice lessons and While I, amused, sat back and watchedÂ she search the Internet for voice coaches for me. She’d like to sing a duet with me.Â That would be neat.
She sang for ten minutes before church started. The congregation was attentive and still. (We are Presbyterians) The choir seemed mesmerized. Everyone joked afterward that I must be bursting my buttons. I just replied that the next time Keely sang I’d be sure to bring a needle and thread.
“Always do right. This will gratify most people and astonish the rest.”
I’m sorry to say that I had misremembered the above quote. I thought it began: “Always tell the truth.” Even so, I’d like to think that the “truth” and the “right” are synonyms.
Here’s a page of Twain quotes twelveÂ ofÂ which areÂ about the truth. Some ofÂ them (the sly and cynical ones) contradict the one above.”
I still have 55 minutes to put an entry into the ole blog today. Daylight savings will trim an hour off of tonight’s sleep which means I’ll have to get out of bed early to readÂ my Sunday School Lesson.
There were no earlier blog entries because I was out of town and I haven’t yet figured out how to blog by email. We left for the Twin Cities yestereday so that I could pick up several cases of wine from Haskell’s “Nickle Sale.” This is the result ofÂ the new hobby which I picked up after my children left the nest and I no longer had to set a good example.
I had just finished insulating the last wall of my “wine cellar” so that the summer temperatures wouldn’t jump up and down so wildly this year. That’s bad for wine. I had researched some recent wine competitions to see what wines had gotten good ratings and compared them with Haskell’s prices. WhenÂ a gold rating coincided with a really inexpensive bottle of wine I put it on my list. MyÂ aim is to becomeÂ become a cheap wine, wine snob. It was nice to come back home tonight and fill the holes that had accumulated over the winter in my wine racks.
We had dinner last night with my daughter and son-in-law at W. A. Frost. Located on Selby Street in the shadow of St. Paul’s CathedralÂ Frost isÂ pricey but worth every penny.
Today before we stopped at Haskels we made a quick stop at the Walker Art Center. It occurred to me, as I looked at a series of very well crafted sculpturesÂ of humans emerging from the birth canals of various animals that museums are much better places to exhibit some contemporary art than a person’s home.
We also made a stop at Como’s Zoo’sÂ conservatory and inhaled the heady bouquet of clorophyll. The flowers in the sunken garden were bright colorful and made one yearn for Spring.
That’s it. No politics today.Â We got home andÂ I picked up a Reader to see my column in print. I couldn’t bring myself to read much of the April Fool’s content however because some writers don’t really understand the difference between parody and cruelty. Hey, I’ll happily eviscerate anyone who really deserves it but suggesting that a youthful looking politician is being recruited by a castrati choir . . . that’sÂ just mean!