Monthly Archives: May 2013

Through the Eyes of a Newly Minted Texan

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One of the things I love most about Dave is his insatiable curiosity. I’m also curious, but in a cursory “isn’t-that-interesting-as-I walk-by-and-take-a-picture-with-my-iphone” kind of way.

Dave digs in. And I can always trust that while I’m in the gift shop at the end of my lightning tour of any museum—looking to see if they have those finger puppets of historical figures—Dave will come tug me on the sleeve and guide me back for a “best-of” tour with his selected highlights from everything I missed.

This is where Texas began.

This is where Texas began.

Which is why we spent four hours at the San Jacinto Monument. Where, thanks to Dave’s dedication to detail, this newly minted Texan got a full immersion course in my new state’s riveting history.

Little kids. Big monument.

Little kids. Big monument.

As cool as the view was at the top of the monument, I was equally riveted by the impressions left by ancient creatures in the limestone used to build it.

As cool as the view was at the top of the monument, I was equally riveted by the impressions left by ancient creatures in the limestone used to build it.

The lesson actually begins on the drive in. To reach Texas past, you drive through its iconic present, surrounded by one tank farm after another. The monument itself, even at 567 feet tall, is hard to pick out amidst the forest of refinery cracking towers in the foreground.

It was here that Sam Houston defeated Santa Anna, because a Dave tells me in one of his tug-the-shirt-come-back-here-and-see-this sessions, “Santa Anna was a complete idiot.”

“Well actually he was arrogant,” Dave continues. “He knew that there was a force of Texans in the area, but je could not conceive that they would ever attack and defeat him.”

Deep breath: Antonio de Padua María Severino López de Santa Anna y Pérez de Lebrón

Deep breath: Antonio de Padua María Severino López de Santa Anna y Pérez de Lebrón.

One afternoon Santa Anna let his troops take a siesta. No sentries. How stupid is that? Houston and his troops sweep in. The battle lasted twenty minutes. Soon thereafter Texas is a nation unto itself.  (Fun fact: When Texas was admitted as a state, it negotiated the right to fly its Lone Star flag at the same height and size as that of the Union—a right Texans proudly exercise to this very day.)

Santa Anna ran away from the battle and tried to blend in dressed as a common soldier.  Wikipedia says that he was found hiding in a swamp. But Dave’s version is more fun, which goes that when the Texans began rounding up the Mexican soldiers they noticed that they addressed one among them as El Presidente. Oops.

But here’s the part that amazes me.  Despite the fact that Santa Anna wiped out everyone at the Alamo when they wouldn’t surrender, and then when those he defeated at the next battle did surrender, summarily executed them all anyway, he was spared by Houston, and sent off to Washington, lived in exile and actually once met with President Jackson.

AND THEN, twice returned to Mexico, twice attempted to regain his status as dictator, and was twice more exiled.  But somehow, after repeatedly pissing of one nation after another, never faced a firing squad. Amazing.

The amazing raisin de-seeder.

The amazing raisin de-seeder.

Also amazing was this little machine that took the seeds out of raisins back before botanists had crossbred the seeds out of grapes.

Hey, I have eclectic interests.

We’re Not Pleather People

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Recliners So just why is it that virtually every RV comes with two matching recliners?  Where and when did this cultural phenomenon—apparently indigenous to this new culture of which we’ve become a part—originate? I hope to have an in-depth investigative report soon, but for the moment we’re busy rebelling.  We’re just not pleather people.  And so the recliners were loaded on the truck and sent off to the resale shop, where I’m sure they’ll bring delight to someone who IS a pleather person. In their place is now our beloved wicker rocker that came along with us on this journey. It’s lighter, it opens up our living room and it lets in much more light  from our biggest window.  More importantly it connects us to a special friend.Rocker

Our friend Annette gives Martha Stewart a run for her money when it comes to stylish pragmatism. Some years ago we looked around our house in New Orleans and said, “We need some help classing up this place. Cheaply.”

And so we reached out to Annette and offered to wine, dine and show her the town if she’d come for a visit and lend us a hand. You read that right. Gay guys asking their straight friend for decorating help. Another stereotype busted.

And help she did, guiding us to fabulous paint colors for our walls, fabrics for our chairs, and this lovely (and inexpensive) rocker.   See that little pillow there?  It was made by our fabulously frugal friend out of remnants from the chair fabric.  Across the middle is embroidered: D&D: Waste not, want not. A. Hall.

And now everywhere where we go, that advice comes with us…and a bit of Annette too.

 

Wandering Off the Riverwalk

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Cultural Institute There we were last weekend in San Antonio on Cinco de Mayo. As one might expect the shops and restaurants along the Riverwalk teemed with tourists. But surprisingly, and to our delight, just a few hundred yards away—we had the spectacular Mexican Cultural Institute all to ourselves. ButterflyThe first floor exhibition space was devoted to a show of remarkable artwork from contemporary Mexican artists inspired by the Monarch Butterfly, millions of which winter in central Mexico each year. The second floor’s permanent exhibit explored thousands of years of Mexican art and culture.  And way in the back, a wall lettered with carefully curated type announced the “Frida Kahlo Gallery.” That wall, in the hallway that led to the restrooms, was an odd setting for the single Kahlo painting that apparently comprised the gallery’s holdings.  But then, one of Mexico’s most celebrated and eccentric artists might have found this spot perfect for “The Two Fridas.”  Created at the same time as her divorce to another of Mexico’s most celebrated artists, Diego Rivera, it is believed to depict her deep hurt at losing her husband. On the left is the Frida rejected by Rivera. Her blouse is ripped open, exposing her broken and bleeding heart. The Frida to the right, the one that Rivera still loves, has a heart that is still whole. She holds a small portrait of Rivera in her hand. After her death, this small portrait of Rivera was found amongst Kahlo’s belongings.

2FridasKahlo was born in 1907, but preferred that people believe her birthday to be in 1910 to correspond with the Mexican Revolution. She died at age 47, a brief life that burned brightly. She overcame polio as a child, and an horrific bus accident as a young woman that left her immobile for three months and in pain much of the rest of her life.  And still she managed to accumulate an extraordinary body of acclaimed artwork, not to mention an extraordinary collection of lovers of both genders. She had affairs with everyone from Leon Trotsky to Josephine Baker.

That one painting, and the story of the artist behind it, was alone worth the visit to this remarkable place we’d stumbled upon by quite by accident. More folks should will wander off the Riverwalk and discover it as well. But I’m glad they didn’t that day. Because this was just the sort of secret I’d hoped this adventure would unearth.