I hear people talking about it in the OST. It’s a common topic of conversation in the local bars. I regularly see posts about it on social media. There are signs of it everywhere. It’s as evident as bug splats on your windshield. Don’t try to tell me that nothing ever changes around here.
There was a time not that long ago it seems when most streets in Bandera were gravel. The exception was Main Street and some of the tree named streets but even then those were only paved for a limited distance.
Those gravel backstreets could be a nightmare on laundry days with clothes hanging on the clothes line out in the back yard. Depending on wind direction my mom would make some calculations and then send me out to get the water hose and wet the street to keep the dust down.
Don’t get me started on the subject of old men and their habit of burning everything. Trash, brush, leaves or even an old tire now and then.
It was on those laundry day occasions that I learned my sweet momma knew some of those words that had caused me to get my mouth washed out with soap.
Back in the day we had stop signs on the number streets intersecting the tree named streets. Now we have them sprinkled around like fairy dust.
For those of us living along the few stretches of a stop sign free zone we have to deal with the drivers making up for lost time due to multiple mandatory stops in their daily pursuit of happiness.
I’m not sure of the procedure at city hall when requesting to have a stop sign installed but whatever it is Cypress Street has the market cornered. I think the common sense approach should be to lower the speed limit to 20 mph on all streets in town other than Main Street which already enjoys a perpetual flow restriction. Sadly the lower speed limit would probably be ignored as is often the case currently with regards to the stop signs.
One thing that will never change for me is how my mind’s eye will forever see things as they used to be while Growing Up In Bandera. 8th Street will still be seen as the dusty gravel road we traveled many times in the back of our old truck on the way to swim at Dripping Springs.
Heading north at the bottom of the hill on 6th Street my memory will make a 90 degree turn to the right along the river on the old Mayan Ranch Road toward the old bridge. In reality I will continue straight ahead crossing a new bridge on Schmidtke Road.
Yes my friends, it’s a new life I’m living here now but in my mind I still find some comfort in seeing the Bandera of old.
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