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| Stylized view of Corpus |
One thing I may
never get used to as I age is how time seems to warp. In school, a
year took forever. Now they fly past like the clouds in the windows
outside my seat at 34,000 feet. When I was a boy and I got to fly
down to Corpus Christi, I pretended the clouds were giant space ships
and my shuttle craft was dodging around the armada amassed in the
nearby star system. I’ve always had an active imagination, and I
always loved flying to South Texas.
The last time I flew
to Corpus Christi was in 1990. That is when we moved my grandmother
to Dallas. Corpus is so full of rich, wonderful memories- walking to
the corner grocery store with my grandfather, holding his hand, which
to do so, my arm raised up to meet his. The cicadas sang in the
trees, leaving their brown shells on the swing set, in the bushes,
and even on the side of the house. I would help my grandparents in
the garden behind the garage, its bounty would become fried okra,
boiled greens, green beans and potatoes- side dishes to the best
home-fried chicken and skillet corn bread made with bacon grease. It
was always amazing how they could gather so many vegetables for all
of us.
My parents were
married in Corpus. I love viewing the old photos, seeing my mom’s
family there in Corpus, all so young, along with my dad’s family,
who had all grown up in that house. There were so few times the two
families were together. I loved how the back yard was always the
prime backdrop for family photos. I remember my grandmother telling
me how, when they moved into this house when it was new, across the
street was farm land.
My childhood trips
to Corpus with my cousin were the best. She and I would play
restaurant in the back yard, or bus company in the dining room.
Sometimes, I took the bus to and from Houston, so I had a fondness
for Trailway’s buses. As I got older, I would fly down. It used to
be so inexpensive that I could buy my own tickets from what I’d
saved from my allowance.
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| Departing Corpus in the early morning |
When I saw that I
had a Corpus layover in my line for the month, I had to call my Aunt
to find out when it was that Memaw moved to Dallas. We struggled, but
finally determined that she moved to Dallas just in time for her 80th
birthday. Subtracting when she died, we determined that she moved in
1990, and this where the time warp freaks me out.
It’s been
twenty-eight years since I was in Corpus. I was twenty-three then.
There have been more years that I’ve been away from Corpus than
when I went to visit my grandparents. It just doesn’t seem
possible. Was it that long ago I was in the rear-facing seat of
their huge land yacht, also known as a station wagon, with my cousin,
waving at motorists behind us, while listening to the Police sing
‘Every Breath you Take’ on the radio? Was it that long ago we’d
drive to Mustang island to swim in the surf and languish as I’d
look back to see my grandfather waving me back in, fearing I was out
too far in the surf? Was it that long ago we’d come in from the
back yard, back full of sweat, to hear the string of bells hanging on
the door sill chime as the door closed, as our eyes adjusted to the
darkness inside, the way it was kept, in order to keep the heat at
bay as the window air conditioning units strummed in unison? Was it
all that long ago?
It’s nice that
these memories still keep me company and have me longing for the more
simpler times, when Memaw would brush my hair, my grandfather would
teach me how to play dominoes, and we’d drive to the T-heads to go
fishing. When I feel old, I think my cousin, Leslie, and how we would
have so much fun together.
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| Penguin on the T-head |
Corpus Christi is
near and dear to my heart. I’ve always loved the city by the bay
and that iconic bridge over the ship channel. After Pa died and Memaw
moved to Dallas, I no longer had a reason to visit. I’ve missed it
terribly. The house my grandparents bought across from the farm
lands, which soon became homes, where we’d wash off in the back
yard from the garden hose after returning from the beach. The same
yard where we’d hide Easter eggs in the bushes (one year, finding
an egg overlooked from the year prior!) is still there- its trees
taller. That old house is just how I remember it, still white with
green shudders, just as they left it only, it’s not in as good a
shape and is showing its age.
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| Shrimp boat |
I have another trip
to Corpus in a few weeks. I hope I can get back many more times. It’s
such a bitter-sweet trip. I didn’t realize that on the ride to our
hotel we’d pass the old bank building where Memaw used to work and
would love showing me off to her friends. I saw it as we buzzed past
on the freeway, pointing it out to my crew, “Oh, that’s the
building where my grandmother used to work.” Of course, the bank
has changed names.
The lump in my
throat nearly brought a tear to my eye as I could see my
grandparents, with their white hair and smiles, looking down on me
standing in the back yard in the shade of the trees planted when my
father and his siblings were infants. And those bells that hung on
the door sill that rang as the door opened or closed, now hang on the
sill of the door in my own home. We may leave the past, but the past
never fully leaves us. I’m just fortunate to have such a rich and
happy past that I bring along with me. A past that is still very much
alive in Corpus Christi.
