Family Truckster

So, we started the day all National Lampoon's "Vacation" and ended it very "Somewhere In Time."

We parked our Family Truckster downtown today, fed nickels and dimes into a parking meter ("I don't KNOW why they won't take pennies, kids!"), affording ourselves 56 minutes in our downtown museums for an exhibit we realllly wanted to see before school starts. We all stopped short a la Clark Griswold at the museum door when "the moose out front" (in this case, a sign on the door) tells us "Sorry Folks, park's closed ..." Then, I punched the moose in the nose and John Candy ambled out and then ... well, then we turned and walked a block to our other favorite museum. It, too, was closed to "install exhibits." Phhtt. Details.

When I realized The Short One didn't have a recent memory of visiting the Capitol, AND because our stomachs were growling, we decided a Capitol Grill burger was just the thing. And they haven't gotten any better in the 9 years I've been away, but they tasted better w/ my children in tow AND because I knew I could get back into my car and drive away before 5 o' clock.

A visit to the state archives building yielded, well ... nothing. I've lived in this state all my life, this city 11 years, and find pride in all things Texan AND historic, so today we blew into the well-chilled archives lobby, asked the uniformed information desk clerk what we needed to see and she said, well, "Nothing."

"Nothing?" I replied. "Not a declaration. Not a constitution. Not a knife, not a hasp, not a ... NOTHING?"

If I wanted to venture into the floors above I would have a wealth of research info at my fingertips. But, I want CULTURE. I've got kids I'm trying to impress!

I took their hands as if to say, "We're going to find SOMETHING here. If it's a ceremonial TOILET!"

So, in the stark lobby which is soon to be renovated, we DID find the W. B. Travis family bible. A copy of Travis' Alamo plea/letter that is much more impressive and heartrending read AT the Alamo, and one of probably 10,000 copies of the Texas Declaration of Independence. And a picture of Sam Houston. "Houston? That's where Uncle Kris lives," said a Short voice.

The air conditioning was nice.

The Short One had never seen my former office building. And they sell M&Ms in the cafeteria there. And it was like stepping back in time. I saw faces I recognized, but knowing they didn't recognize ME, because no one ever does, I was able to study their faces and their posture and wonder where they've been for the almost 9 years I've been away. They never left, it seemed. Ever. Never left the building. Very pale and kind of ghostlike.

The spot on the granite stairs outside where I waited each evening for The Tall One to swoop in, rescue me, and carry me away to ... IH35, was still there ... more worn than before from skateboards and stained from cigarettes. I made the boys sit on it. I took their picture. We looked like tourists. They grimaced. It wasn't pretty.

But, the day was. I'm so thankful for our freedom. For air conditioning. For parking meters w/ time left on them. For street people who smile and don't scare my children when we have no change left to give them because it's all in the PARKING METER. For museum exhibits still left to see. For holding my childrens' hands when it's hot. For pink granite, big staircases and history. For Drumsticks and M&Ms. For NOT having an "real" office ... for now.

"What do you do now that you don't have an office, Mommy?"

"Well, our home is my office and you and your brother and your Daddy and our DOG are my 'job'."

"That's not werrrkkkkkk, (silly) Mommy!"

You are so right.