Castroville, the Alsace of Texas

Castroville is a historic little town with a rich cultural heritage nestled in the Medina River Valley just 15 miles west of San Antonio. It is known as “The Little Alsace of Texas” because of its origins. The town was founded in 1844 by Henri Castro, for whom the town is named. The first European emigrant settlers in this area were mostly Catholic farmers from Alsace, a region of France, brought over to fulfill Castro’s contract to colonize vacant Texas Land. Calling themselves Alsatians, they were mostly of German decent speaking a dialect of German and French.

Henri Castro, founder of Castroville

Elegy for a Dead Soldier

My father died at the end of May this year...just a couple of months past my own heart attack. It was surprise and a shock, of course; you can never be ready for the death of a parent. Dad was a young man during the Great Depression, and learned the craft of carpentry serving in the Civilian Conservation Corps. He joined the Navy after Pearl Harbor, later island hopping throughout the Pacific with the Seabees (somewhere we still have the set of dominoes he meticulously carved from native mahogany).

Image via Wikipedia

He was a classic representative of the "greatest generation," surviving the Depression, World War II, and supporting a family as a skilled tradesman - a member of the last generation that would extend respect to a man that worked with his hands.

Everything I learned about being a good man, I learned from him.

-------------------

Elegy For a Dead Soldier

Karl Shapiro, 1944



A white sheet on the tailgate of a truck
Becomes an altar, two small candlesticks
Sputter at each side of the crucifix
Laid round with flowers brighter than the blood,
Red as the red of our apocalypse,
Hibiscus that a marching man will pluck
To stick into his rifle or his hat,
And great blue morning-glories pale as lips
That shall no longer taste or kiss or swear.
The wind begins a low magnificat,
The chaplain chats, the palm trees swirl their hair,
The columns come together through the mud...

...The time to mourn is short that best becomes
The military dead. We lift and fold the flag,
Lay bare the coffin with its written tag,
And march away. Behind, four others wait
To lift the box, the heaviest of loads.
The anesthetic afternoon benumbs,
Sickens our senses, forces back our talk.
We know that others on tomorrow's roads
Will fall, ourselves perhaps, the man beside,
Over the world the threatened, all who walk:
And could we mark the grave of him who died
We would write this beneath his name and date:

EPITAPH
Underneath this wooden cross there lies
A Christian killed in battle. You who read,
Remember that this stranger died in pain;
And passing here, if you can lift your eyes
Upon a peace kept by a human creed,
Know that one soldier has not died in vain.

A Childhood Friend

The year is 1958, the place is the southside of San Antonio. Midway between the ancient Mission San Jose and the abandoned Terrell Wells (a natural hot springs spa whose sulfuric rotten-egg scent wafted for miles) lay tiny working class tract houses, one of which was my childhood home. On lazy summer afternoons, the boys of the neighborhood would play baseball in the street or explore the woods adjacent to our subdivision...

Approaching dusk might bring out blinking lightning bugs, or if you were really sharp-eyed you might spot a horny toad on a tree branch or fence post. It wasn't actually a toad (the real name was horned lizard), but the crowning achievement of a summer day was to capture one of these creatures and drop it in your pocket.

I haven't seen a horny toad in 50 years. I suppose they're still around - some say they fell victim to the fire ant invasion from South America. Progress has its place, I suppose, but I'm glad not to have lived my childhood in the sadly depleted world I see around me now.

Take a look at:

Rick's Photoblog

Related articles by Zemanta

• For horned lizard, horns alone do not make the species (scienceblog.com)

Two Tons of Steel crash into Landa Park!

-

Texas favorites Two Tons of Steel give a decidedly western swing twist to the Ramones punk classic Sedated. (2009 KNBT Crossroads Party):...

Rose Hill Manor

Vacation time for Rick and Sandy! We had an overnight stay at the Rose Hill Manor, near Stonewall.

Our room was called the Carriage House.

Our short trip allowed for a little shopping in Fredericksburg, a trip to fort Martin Scott, a visit to the Wildseed Farms, and a quick stop at Luckenbach.

View slideshow:



Dinner was a four-course formal affair featuring quail stuffed with rice and cous-cous, canneloni, a chocolate box drenched in cherry syrup with strawberries and blueberries inside…that’s all I can remember, anyway!