Of Roadtrips and Reunions

Yes, I do love roadtrips. In fact, the best part of any trip, for me, is probably the time spent in the car, strapped to a seat, unable to go anywhere or do anything but sit back and stare at the fresh, new, ever-changing sights going by, listening to music or reading now and then, or chatting, playing the abc game, or reading with family members. Not that being trapped in a minivan with my parents and three siblings is always a basket of cherries, mind you, but generally it's pretty special. Car time. MMMM. I like it so much that after a drive of only a few hours I really would rather not get out.

We left on Thursday, about lunch time, and headed for Glen Rose to stay the night at a cozy little guest house we've been to before. It's a special place, and I always look forward to going there. We tried to play a riotous game of family soccer, which was pretty comical due to the fact that we were playing in a tiny space in a grove of trees, and none of us have really played soccer before besides Dad and maybe Connor. Even though I was wearing tennis shoes, the slippery oak leaves strewn all over the yard betrayed me several times and I, being the athletic chic I am, flew sprawling on the ground like a circus clown. Great fun.

We didn't find the blanket of bluebonnets we were hoping for, but we did enjoy a stroll down to the Brazos, which borders a smidgin of the property. The little glade was shaded by oak trees fledged with new leaves, and cedars clustered everywhere, along with a sprinkling of flowers.

That night we visited with our hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Southward, over bowls of ice cream on the porch. At long last, I was reunited with the favored corduroy pillow, a dumpy old green affair with an aura of comfort and soporificness. In the morning there was coffee in the be-hearted mugs, and we cleaned up and headed on the Frederickburg.

Dad was driving, so he had plenty to say about the unforcasted gloomy weather, but the drive was splendid without the sunshine too. The hills in the area are humble, not grand or majestic; simple, rugged, swathed in old grass that gives them a dry look. Cedar shrubs dotting the landscape everywhere add to the dryness. It may not be the lushness of good 'ole East Texas, but in the low, secretive groves of willow and oak trees, flowers an new leaves spring out. So the countryside is an intriguing mix of death and rebirth, old and new. I never tired of watching it go by.

Fredericksburg was full of hoity-toity, too-close-to-the-big-city-to-be-cheap-enough-to-sell-anything-affordable shops (which were fun to window shop in anyway) and enticing German restaurants. It was Brats and Snitzel for us...and various potato dishes, too.

We bunked up in a hotel in San Marcus Friday night and tried to give ourselves a driving tour of Texas State campus in the morning, but as it turns out, you pretty much need a degree in navigation...or at least a map...to get around the place. The campus sprawls all over a series of little hills among a tangle of vegetation, including a lot of air plants and some spanish moss hanging from trees. Well, college towns are fascinating, anyway, especially when the campus population significantly increases the town's population, as it does in San Marcus. I don't know the numbers for sure.

As it was Saturday, we set off for the anticipated family reunion in Smithville, closer to Austin (I think I said Houston in a different post, but I was wrong.) By this time I was eager to visit with some other people (nothing against my immediate family of course, but hotel rooms can be...umm...confining). I was not prepared, however, for an afternoon milling about with 100+ complete strangers who were supposedly related to me and wanted to know my plans for the next ten years of life. Some of them remembered me as baby, but most of them had no clue who I was, and I didn't know them from Adam.

I don't have much to report on the family reunion. It was the driving motive of our trip, but I found that it mainly served to illustrate the Proverb that says "Better is a friend nearby than a brother far away." (Isn't that it?) It was fun to meet the cousins and aunt and uncle Mom grew up with, though, and "Get in touch with my Dutch" a little. I found out that I have a relative (and an ancestor from farther back) named "Douwe"...a thrillingly odd and wonderful name, isn't it? And I got to try Dutch cheese straight from Freisland. So it was good to find out a little about my roots, but I think if I were really going to have a "family" reunion, you'd be surprised at the people invited...and the nationalities my skin doesn't betray!

I'm going to continue in a second post so that this one doesn't get too gangly and unreadable...