It was around 1963 when I opened my first bank account here in Bandera. It was at The First State Bank where Burgin Davenport was running things.
My deposits didn't cause any bulging of the bank vault, but I was still treated nice anyway. The bank president and the cashiers all called me Glenn, and I liked that about the way things were in earlier times around Bandera.
Frank Montague at The National Bank called me Glenn too because I had gone to school with some of his kids since first grade. Bubba and I were classmates at St. Joseph Catholic School through the 8th grade. Back in the day of counter checks I chose First State Bank because that's where my parents banked.
In 1966 when we married, my new wife and I were able to combine our accounts as she was banking there too. I don't remember exactly, but I'm pretty sure she had a bigger account balance than me at the time.
Now that bank, which was located across Main from the OST, moved in later years to the other end of town and became Norwest. That's when things started to change.
Familiar faces were around for a while but soon I saw strangers in the usual places. Then it morphed into Wells Fargo. Bank lobby and drive-thru, new unfamiliar faces.
Instead of hearing 'Hi Glenn,” I was hearing, 'Do you have an account with us?”
The people are friendly enough, but the hometown bank feeling was definitely gone.
Bandera Bank is where I created an account for my ranching purposes about 20 years ago. Now once again I'm hearing 'Hi Glenn' and I can get things done without having to make an appointment days in advance.
I still have the checking account with Wells Fargo because I fear all the jumping through hoops to change automatic deposits and withdrawals set up when my wife handled the books. Murphy's Law!!!
I often mull over the changes I've seen taking place in our once quiet, dusty little town. We are still pretty dusty but no longer are we quiet. Most times the intentions are good, but the results are often questionable.
The gravel streets of my childhood bicycle riding days have all been paved. For various reasons, some are rougher now than before. I can remember when Juan Fernandez operating a road grader kept those gravel streets pretty smooth, and all the drainage ditches clear.
The once laid-back look of our Main Street in the oldest part of town hasn't escaped change while an early morning around the OST still maintains that familiar old feel of yesteryear as some of the local oldtimers gather over coffee. The big change is in the subject of the conversations at that table of knowledge.
Out front on the sidewalk we no longer see direct descendants of our founding fathers sitting on those wide cement window ledges. They too were once discussing changes taking place in town while spitting tobacco juice toward the street and leaving a trail of stains on the sidewalk.
Those spots on the window ledge were worn smooth after decades of serving as a place to sit and reflect on a changing world. Then someone decided benches were a better option.
You won't find any oldtimers sitting on those benches today. Go take a look at those smooth ledges behind the benches and then notice the absence of the tobacco stains on the sidewalk. So, was it a change for the better?
Look along the curb at all the cigarette butts, floss picks and toothpicks then decide if we made it better or just different. Have we gained or lost in our effort to 'keep Bandera, Bandera'?
Today I can look back over seven decades and see just how much the Bandera I grew up in has faded away. No matter how hard I want to hold on to it I can still feel it slipping away.
.png)
