I think back to all the experiences my grandpas shared with me about their young life in Bandera as I now compare them to the world that me and my great grandkids are living in today.
In the minds of the young ones there is no comprehending someone taking a bath by sitting in a galvanized tub in a kitchen lighted by a single light bulb at the end of a wire hanging from the ceiling. I have vivid memories of wintertime baths like that with heat and the hot bath water provided by a wood burning stove. It’s strange how that memory can bring a chill as well as a warm feeling.
I’m not sure why some of my friends from back in the day feel embarrassment when talking about the things we experienced as kids in situations that were not far removed from the ways of earliest pioneers in the area.
I often think back to the times I helped my mom with the laundry that was being done in two big cast iron pots. Granddaddy Kindla was at the woodpile doing the chopping and I carried the wood that kept the fires going under the pots.
One pot was for washing and the other was for rinsing. I have a lasting vision of my mom on those days with a scarf tied on her head as she used a sawed-off broom stick to stir the clothes around in the pots. Everything was then wrung out by hand. I wasn’t tall enough yet to help hang things on the clothesline so I held the bag of clothes pins and handed them to my mom.
Later in life I learned about those songs she sometimes would sing while she worked. I can still hear her voice as I listen to them now on You Tube as they were recorded by Bob Wills.
People shouldn’t call themselves country just because they move to the country later in their life. There should be some rules to qualify for that title.
While growing up how often did you use an outhouse? Have you ever processed your kill all the way from the field to the freezer? Do you place care for your animals above yourself on the priority list? Ever do homework with light provided by a kerosene lamp? Those would be good starter questions.
Growing Up In Bandera held some hard lessons in my early years but other than a few self-inflicted miseries I don’t think I would change the way things were back then. Here in my late life I can look back at all the love and fun we shared with family and friends and the bad memories disappear. It wasn’t nearly as rough as some might imagine when reading my stories.
In earlier times my generation had the Bantex theater and The Trail drive-in too. We could drag main in the evenings for hours without having to stop for a traffic light.
We didn’t need permission to be on the river at anytime as we often roamed all the way from The Longhorn Steakhouse to the bridge on the Hondo Highway. That’s sorely missed in our modern version of a “country” town.
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