Memory Lane

Last week I had the pleasure of revisiting my hometown. It was the Monkey's first long road trip, and we had a blast! It was so great to see family and friends I haven't seen in years, but we just picked up right where we left off the last time we saw each other. Here are a few highlights (I'm still not great with the camera, but I'm working on it):

We stayed near the site of my high school, which is now a parking lot for the new Dallas Cowboys Stadium. It was a tiny private school, and I was there for both elementary and secondary education. While it's hard to believe there's nothing left of the place I knew, the memories I made there are indelible. (And see? It doesn't look so bad after a little photo doctoring!)

We also went back to my grandparents' old neighborhood. The railroad tracks below are where my Grandfather and I used to ride bikes during the summer. I'll never forget the day we saw a snake, and he urgently told me to get away, saying (thick with his North Carolina accent), "The only kind of snake I know is nineteen feet long and poisonous!" Thus I grew up with an unhealthy fear of snakes. Thankfully, I've traded such childishness for a more rational fear of flying.

Our last full day in town was filled with several pleasant surprises. We ate at Don Juan's, a place at which I literally grew up eating. I vaguely remember sitting in their hazardous 1960's style high chairs, and it was one of the last meals I had before I moved away in my twenties. I kind of knew it was still open, but I was thrilled to see business still booming during the lunch hour, hoping it remains successful in the years to come so my son can have his own memories there. He sat in one of the hazardous 1960's style high chairs, and we shared a half dozen several Kiddie Burritos. (I've heard they have other menu items besides that and chips and guacamole, but I can't corroborate that because I have never ordered anything else.)

                                 

Per my sister's request, we stopped by the day care we both attended growing up. My sister is 12 years my junior, so the fact that we shared the same preschool and kindergarten teachers already seems pretty incredible to me. So imagine my surprise when--30 years after the fact--I ran into my kindergarten and first grade teachers, still there, and still teaching! We had a nice visit, but the best part was introducing them to my son. I can say with certainty that he's someone they never would have expected to meet. It filled me with the best kind of pride and sense of accomplishment that I will try to remember as we stumble back into our routine here at home. (I was somewhat perplexed that some of the playground equipment I played on as a child was still there, but I'm sure it's just because it's made of metal and very durable; there was hardly any rust.)