Our arrival to Corpus Christi, Texas occurred with lots of excitement and trepidation as neither Mom, Dad nor I had been back in this place for at least twenty five years or longer. We had been transferred to Corpus when I was 9 years old as my Dad had been promoted and we left Wichita Kansas having only lived there 3 years. The memories I have of this city in Texas by the Gulf of Mexico, the people and places are too numerous to share but even now, as I write, a smile is crossing my face as I think about those times of life then and how unwittingly they have shaped who I am..
I had two best friends in Corpus, Mark L and Patrice S. We were the three musketeers and had lots of adventures, and were either inseparable or so mad at one another for some unknown reason that we would have nothing to do with one another. Of course this rarely lasted more than 24 hours. One of my favorite times was being over to Mark's house right before dinner, where it seemed like his parents drank margaritas daily and often they let us have a sip. Oh, the enjoyability of getting to do something adult-ish and feel like we got away with it! We were fantastic friends and the margarita sips were just one of the many memories I have of our “Spanky Gang”-like friendship.
So here we are cruising along Shoreline Drive which is lined with tall, skinny palm trees. suddenly spying the Holiday Inn with its big green sign with what looks like a cartoon like crayon drawing of some sort of fire works for their logo. We stayed right in that place when we first moved to Corpus (no one who lives there says the entire name of city – natives just say “Corpus”) and we began throwing out all the places we remembered like, our favorite restaurant was the Black Diamond, where Pop taught us all to love oysters on the half shell and Padre Island beach where we spent lots of summer times swimming, playing, searching for hidden sand dollars and getting stung by jelly-fish.
We lived at the Holiday Inn for about a week or so prior to being able to occupy our new home and the last morning of our stay in what we felt was royal living Mom treated us to breakfast at the hotel restaurant. It was a delicious time getting to eat in that nice of a restaurant with all those choices of pancakes, bacon and real butter and we relished every morsel.
When we had finished licking our plates of every drop of syrup and were sitting around the table like overstuffed pups, sort of cocked backwards & sideways in our sitting because our tummies were so full, Mom was digging around in her purse to come up with a tip and all she had was quarters. So with no other option, she left several dollars in quarters (I think we were going to do laundry that day) and we moaned and groaned as do those who have eaten with satisfaction and moved slowly out of the restaurant. Even now I remember what a great feeling it was to eat such a wonderful breakfast and then get to go to a new place – it was so exciting.
As we walked across the parking lot to reach our car, a 1969 white Chevy, My Mom noticed my youngest brother, Greg, was way behind us and she was urging him to stay with us. Greg was around 7 years old with bright blue eyes, fair complexion and blinding blonde hair, styled (if you can call it a style?) in a crew cut. He was running and had a wide grin on his face and had his hands cupped together holding some precious treasure. My Mom asked where he had been and how he needed to stay with us and Greg not waiting til she finished scolding him, blurted out; “I found a bunch of quarters of the table, Mom!” My two other brothers and I were all smiles and turned our gaze from Greg quickly to Mom to see what she would do. "Greg (with her teeth gritted), that money is for the waitress, it is called a tip and you leave it for her in thanks for the service! Now, she is not going to get anything!" There was a pause and then nervously we all laughed, except for Greg who had quickly discerned that he just lost his wonderful find. Mom told David, number two son (Dave was a year older than me), to take the quarters back and grimacing and pouting (which Dave was famous for) he ran back to the restaurant. We were only a few steps from our Chevy and we waited for my Mom to unlock her door and reach over to unlock the passenger doors to let us in (there was no such thing as automatic door locks then).My Mom, again, fumbled through her purse and somewhat panicky asked if any of us had seen the keys? We all shook our heads saying, "No” and then Mark, the eldest, who was peering in the window of our car stated excitedly, "Mom!, the keys are in the ignition!". All the doors were locked, as that was a rule Pop had always impressed upon each of us. "Did you lock your car door?" He would ask all of us as we got out and this time locking the door had not worked in our favor. Secretly I knew in my heart that forgetting to lock your car was not all bad.
Here we were on a very sunny July morning and it was already really hot, Mom did not want to bother Dad who had already started his job, so we stood there momentarily while she thought. The windows were cracked a bit and the driver's side window was about 2 and half inches open. We, not waiting for Mom’s decision, hoisted Greg up to see if his arm was skinny enough and it was but way too short to reach anything. Dave had returned and while we were pushing, pulling and squeezing this seven year olds’ limb around David was busy picking grass up and had tied several grass weed-like pieces together to make what looked like a mini-noose as it had a loop on one end. He held it up to show us and looked like a proud parent smiling saying he thought he could unroll the window with it. We all doubted his invention could actually work but we were a bit desperate though I am not sure why because the car didn’t have air conditioning so getting in would not make us cooler. I guess once we got the Chevy moving the breeze from the open windows would be better than standing here in the hot southern sun? As he lowered the grass noose through the crack and maneuvered it to slip over the window handle and slowly pulled it up, we had success!! The window came down enough for him to get his arm and hand in and unlock the door!! Mom was thrilled that she didn’t have to call Dad. I remember David was and still is our resident ingenious handy man.
Okay back to the current journey, as we drove along, Mom and Pop began to argue over the streets, street's names and directions that would lead us to our house on Kilarmet Circle and it was testy for several moments but when we finally began to behold familiar landmarks, we realized we were in the right place and we all commented on how developed the area had become. Once we got into our old subdivision, Schannen Estates, Pop crawled along so we could soak all the views of what was both familiar and unfamiliar in, as we tried to remember the families who had once lived in the houses we were seeing. We pointed and called out names of those residents we thought we remembered and stated a qualifying characteristic or characteristics of who the person was, like; remember Mr. Andy? He had a huge beer belly, skinny legs and always sat in his drive way in an aluminum lawn chair drinking Coors or remember the family on the corner who’s Dad unknowingly taught all the boys to cuss? It was fun to remember these neighbors and the parts they played in our lives, good, bad and humorous.
When we came to the left turn we needed to make to be on the circle I think we must of all held our breath abit in anticipation as to what we would see when we saw our former homestead? Pop drove at a slower pace and we could not believe our eyes, the house looked just the same, all the arched front windows had decorative white woodwork below the frames, there was a rubber tree plant growing up the side of the porch to the roof where I had once jumped off the roof through the tree and the small cut out door Dad had made in the fence so we could get through it more easily instead of having to open the big wooden gates. Everything seemed in tact..
Mom and I requested that Pop stop so we could get out and take a look around and get some photos of our old home. There was no one out and about in the whole neighborhood but Pop, turned and looked at us as though we had said something obscene, and replied, "We are not stopping, the people who live here will think we are casing out the joint. Just take the photos from the car and be quick about it!"
Honestly, I was dumbstruck! Could he have actually said that we should take photos from the moving car??? I automatically raised the camera as did my Mom and we both snapped several pictures and slowly drove off. I lost a bit, okay, most of the excitement I had felt about being here at a home that we had lived at thirty years ago and I was finally coming to from my state of unbelief and was beginning to think about how angry I was. We have driven a thousand miles to see a house that had become our home with so many wonderful memories and we didn't even get to stop but had to take snapshots from a moving lopsided rented 98 Oldsmobile! Ridiculous doesn't even begin to describe this behavior! Dad acted normal, as he had obviuosly seen what he wanted to see and was ready to move on. Looking back now maybe he was right to want to move on so quickly as no matter how long we stared at our home from some 30 years earlier those days and times could not be retrieved. But I think I would have enjoyed exhausting that lane of memories.
That evening in the hotel I got beyond my anger and allowed my mind to run through all the times we had at Kilarmet Circle in Corpus Christi, Texas. This journey and its events has just begun in all senses; the physical, emotional and spiritual. And I don’t think I was prepared for all these aspects that will obviously affect not only me but my parents. Was I insane to come? I guess we will find out and only eight more houses to see (or drive by) and some twenty four days to accomplish this five week trip – I can tell it will be a wearing but interesting process, if I survive?
Still thinking about this one event, I will always have a hard time believing, from my perspective, that we drove a distance of a thousand plus miles only to whiz by our old home hoping to take pictures of what might have been a lifetime of memories for many and Pop acted as if we were the dreaded paparazzi running from some maniacal celebrity. But we aren’t the paparazzi and there were no celebrities let alone people chasing us – I must laugh and hope the reader can fully drink this whole scene in. Oh, to get in the brain of my Dad and see what he must be thinking?? Was he really afraid someone thought we were trespassing or was it actually close to a meal time and he had more important things on his mind?
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