My brother and I took a little 231 mile jaunt on our motorcycles the other day. My ass is gradually getting broken in. We ran down the back roads from Georgetown to Somerville. That's where my Dad grew up, and where we used to visit Grandma's house. I haven't been back there since I was about 12, when we went to her funeral.
I remember afterwards Dad and Uncle JD burning an enormous pile of old books in the back yard. Even then, I thought that was just wrong. But when I protested, I was asked what I wanted to save. I didn't have a ready answer. It's easier these days. If information becomes inconvenient, we just delete it.
It took a while to find the house. The old place seems shrunken, and certainly in disrepair. It used to be enormous. Yegua Creek, which once meandered lazily nearby, has been drowned by a large lake. The lake comes right up into town, about a quarter mile down from where Dad went to high school.
The past can't be recovered. It's like trying to find a nail you once pounded in a tree. At most you'll find a knot where it used to be. It is an oddly haunted thing to even try. If you want to own the past you have to invent it. And then it isn't past at all.
What the heck. Childhood is like many a vacation destination. A great place to visit. But you wouldn't want to live there.
Mike and I headed on up to Snook. We've been on a mission, ever since I saw a thing on TV about Sodolak's Country Inn. We got there in time for a late lunch. I had the "extra small sirloin", which weighed in at 16 oz. Delicious!
But the item of real curiosity was an appetizer: chicken fried bacon and gravy. The bacon was very lean, and did not taste particularly greasy, though of course most of its calories had to be in the form of lard. Not bad, actually, though I wouldn't want to make a habit of it.
And as a silly kind of redneck quest, it was irresistible.
I managed to finish it all off. My brother left half a piece (the wuss). And here's what he looked like in the parking lot afterward.