Old Town
Yesterday, after attending the funeral of a friend’s father, I found myself wandering around San Antonio on my way to have lunch with another friend. As I drove, I passed the front of Incarnate Word University and realized it was a lovely, ornate, old school sort of place. Then I passed what appeared to be a public garden, and then an art museum, and then I thought, I need to explore more of San Antonio.
It’s the sort of city I like. Old. With winding streets, and historic things to look at. I’ve been there before on lots of occasions. There’s the Alamo and the Menger Hotel, where I used to stay on business. I’ve attended bowl games in the Alamodome. My grandmother lived on the north side just off Babcock road by UTSA, lots of aunts and uncles and cousins lived and still live all around, and my parents are buried in the national cemetery, one on top of the other. My mother, the officer, has her name on the front of the tombstone, my father, the enlisted man, has his on the back.
Heck, maybe I’ll even look into the retirement village where my father spent his last years. Wouldn’t that be something? I’m living in Johnson City where my father was born, so how poetic, to move to San Antonio where he died. Of course, that’s all conjecture, at the moment it just feels right to spend more time in and around the old city that counted for so much of my youth no matter where I lived and now seems to be beckoning me home.