It's an eerie feeling. Seeing your old hometown through the eyes of a tourist.After I married El Jefe and moved from San Antonio to the Houston area, I returned several times a year with Portia and Babs in tow to visit my parents and siblings. We always stayed with my parents, and after my Dad died, with my mother, in the close in suburban city where I grew up. Because we had so many family obligations, and the girls were so young, we seldom saw ventured outside this area when we came to town.
This weekend, I returned to San Antonio, staying in a hotel downtown with a group of friends for the Aggie/West Point game. My friends expected me to be the expert on the local area, because I used to work downtown as a young lawyer. But so much has changed in the intervening years that I found myself seeing the town through the eyes of a tourist rather than the eyes of a native.
Sure there were a few of the old familiar places: Schilo's Deli on the river and the Gunter Hotel next to the Alamo where I used to meet my Dad for lunch when I worked in the DA's office and later at a law firm; the Crockett Hotel next to the Alamo which used to contain Rosengren's Book Store is still there but Rosengren's is not; the large timepiece that was outside Hertzberg's Jewlery Store where El Jefe and I bought our wedding rings remains but the store is now a bank; the Majestic Building where my father's first business office was located has been restored; the buildings across from the Alamo that used to have Woolworth's and other businesses are now turned over to tacky tourist attractions; and then there's the Alamo Dome that wasn't there when I grew up.
This weekend, I returned to San Antonio, staying in a hotel downtown with a group of friends for the Aggie/West Point game. My friends expected me to be the expert on the local area, because I used to work downtown as a young lawyer. But so much has changed in the intervening years that I found myself seeing the town through the eyes of a tourist rather than the eyes of a native.
Sure there were a few of the old familiar places: Schilo's Deli on the river and the Gunter Hotel next to the Alamo where I used to meet my Dad for lunch when I worked in the DA's office and later at a law firm; the Crockett Hotel next to the Alamo which used to contain Rosengren's Book Store is still there but Rosengren's is not; the large timepiece that was outside Hertzberg's Jewlery Store where El Jefe and I bought our wedding rings remains but the store is now a bank; the Majestic Building where my father's first business office was located has been restored; the buildings across from the Alamo that used to have Woolworth's and other businesses are now turned over to tacky tourist attractions; and then there's the Alamo Dome that wasn't there when I grew up.
I always loved downtown San Antonio. I still do, but of course it is different from my memories of many years ago. You can go home again--but sometimes you feel more like a tourist than a native.
And there are memories around every bend in the Riverwalk.
And there are memories around every bend in the Riverwalk.
I love going to the Alamo. It rankles me that there is a mall right there.
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