Growing Up in Bandera
Recently while cruising around the area of town where I was raised I paused at the intersection of 8th Street and Cherry. For a few minutes I lingered there as I studied the trail that is still visible leading down to the river. In my mind I saw every step along that path that I had traveled countless times during my carefree childhood days.
Along the upper part of that trail was a huge flat rock with a cove of sorts created by its overhang. That spot is where we stashed many items we wanted to keep secret. Things like the Camel cigarettes I had snuck out of Granddaddy Kindla’s old Ford truck glovebox. A bag of Bugler purchased by someone under the guise of buying it for an adult relative.
There was once a quart jar of Mustang grape juice left over from my mom’s jelly making process that Harper Jacoby and I snuck out of the smokehouse in our feeble attempt at winemaking by adding lots of sugar to the contents. After about a week of sipping on it daily as a way to judge the fermentation progress the jar was soon empty.
Paper items such as secret notes passed between classmates at St. Joseph’s Catholic School didn’t weather well in the damp conditions and it seems there are all sorts of bugs in nature that like to consume paper in any form. James Jacoby had a knack for acquiring items not intended for the eyes of young boys. It was a bit disappointing when we discovered they were partially devoured by hungry insects.
As my thoughts considered if there might still be a few bits of history remaining in that dirt hideaway under the rock I quickly realized that several of the later years historic floods surely had removed all signs of our covert activities back in the day. My confessions now are easy to share since my mom’s passing happened years ago. If she were still around today I can assure you the statutes of limitation on my youthful misdeeds could not be be used in my defense.
It would be nice to travel down that trail to once again access the Medina River along the old Mayan Ranch Road and relive some of the adventures we enjoyed long ago. The sight of Mr. Deskin making his daily walk along that road with cane in hand and candy in his pocket forever remains a clear vision in my mind.
After having recently endured the first loss of a sibling my memories have taken on a a whole new level of humble appreciation for the life I had as a kid Growing Up In Bandera. This one’s for you, Martha Clark Weynand!