The weekend the world changed

On the Vonlane bus to San Antonio

Tomorrow marks eleven weeks of social isolation for me and my local family. I asked Jordan tonight about individually wrapped Clorox wraps and she said she was able to get plenty the weekend we went to San Antonio. Since then, she’s never found them in stores. As we talked I realized that was the weekend the world changed.

We went the weekend of March 7 because I had a chance to sign The Second Battle of the Alamo at the annual meeting of the Alamo Society. Jordan, Jacob, and I took the Vonlane “executive” bus to Austin. That part of the trip was like other times I’ve ridden that bus—nice lunch service, friendly attendant, nothing remarkable.

In Austin we picked up Megan and her son, Ford, and drove on to San Antonio. At that time, San Antonio had a few cases of COVID-19 and the proactive mayor had declared an emergency. So we went with hesitation. An email to the president of the society beforehand assured me that many from the group were already there and everything was fine. Armed with wipes, sprays, and what-have-you, we ventured forth.

We stayed at the historic Menger Hotel—a two-room suite for me and my girls, a separate room for the cousins (they were thrilled). Jordan sprayed every inch of those rooms every time we went into them. She harangued us about washing our hands frequently. She was vigilante.

But life in San Antonio seemed to go on as usual—we walked crowded streets, mingled with the tourists at the Alamo, ate in some really good restaurants, took Ubers around the city, and had a fine time. Come Sunday, we drove back to Austin, ate at a Mexican restaurant, and then the three of us boarded a Vonlane for Fort Worth. And that’s when I saw the changes.

The girls left me to nap while they took the boys to the River Walk.

It was a ruse--they went to drink margaritas.

Over the weekend, Vonlane had really upgraded their sanitary measures. No masks, but the attendant wore gloves and frequently offered us sanitary wipes. She used tongs to hand us baggies of chips and Styrofoam containers of supper. We did have a catastrophe—the driver braked suddenly, and my salad flew across my trail table, sailed across the aisle, and landed upside down under the driver’s seat. The attendant, wearing her gloves was unflappable and cleaned it all up easily. But I was struck by the difference in sanitary measures from Friday to Sunday. That marked, for me, the beginning of the change in our lives.

When we came home, Jordan and Christian took Jacob to Broken Bow in Oklahoma to fish for spring break. It was a good choice, as they saw almost no people. I don’t remember what I did most of the week, but I clearly remember that good friend Subie and her sister Diana took me to the Arlington Women’s Club where I talked to a group about my life as a writer. It was a speaking engagement I had worried and fretted about and wished I’d never accepted, but as usually happens, it went well. I just need to get over the anxiety beforehand.

That evening, Carol and I went to Lucille’s for super and remarked that it was less crowded than usual. We wondered if people were staying home because of the novel corona virus. The date was March 12, and I have been out of the house only once since them—to ride with Jordan when she picked up to-go food. That weekend, the stay-at-home directives came down, but for me the world really changed the weekend before.

What stories my grandchildren will have to tell their children.

Grandsons at the signing

A trip in a time warp

On our way in the Vonlane bus

With all the talk about travel bans and meeting cancellations, I’m glad I went to San Antonio just before it got scarier to travel. Don’t think I was exposed—my hands are raw from sanitizing—but two weeks will tell the time.

I went for a meeting of the Alamo Society and stayed at the historic Menger Hotel. Talk about a trip back in time. There were maybe 150 people at the meeting, many of them dedicated to the past—coonskin caps, period costumes, Bowie knives and short muskets. These folks take their history seriously, and they are knowledgeable and dedicated about it. The society had 22 copies of my book and sold them out in the first 15 minutes of the first break, thanks to the hyping by Brian Gibson, society president. As I signed, I chatted with many of them and found we shared a love of Texas history, but they were more

Signing a book for Mike from Crane

who is, like me, an Elmer Kelton fan

knowledgeable than me about many aspects of Alamo history. Especially true for renowned Alamo historian Jack Edmondson, who bought my book and told me I had once rejected a manuscript of his when he submitted it to TCU Press. Blush, gulp, embarrassment.

The Menger was also a step back in time. Built in the late 1850s, it is the second oldest hotel in Texas, beaten by only months by the Excelsior in Jefferson. The hotel has been modernized up to a point. We stayed in the Babe Ruth Suite—a living room and bedroom, all painted a deep avocado green, with flowered, swag draperies and brocade furniture, most of it antique and lovely. It was clearly a suite decorated in the fifties and meant for someone intending a long stay—or permanent residence, as some, particularly widow ladies, used to do back in the day. The kitchen was bigger than mine but without  a single utensil.

The bathroom was up a step, which meant I could not access the facilities without the help of one of my daughters who were with me. There were no grab bars, etc., and they decided the risk was not worth my trying to do it alone. A true inconvenience at three o’clock in the morning.

The Menger seems to be on several levels, with stairs that lead who knows where. It took us a bit to get to the right part of the third floor where our room was. The elevators were small—we could not fit all five of us (two grandsons), my transport chair, and my Rollator in one elevator at the same time. So we traveled in shifts.

We breakfasted in the dining room and found it classically good—white linen tablecloths, a menu that included eggs Sardou (like Benedict but with spinach and artichoke hearts), a genial wait staff—and really slow service.

The hotel wraps around an absolutely charming patio that is surrounded by long, tall windows and small balconies with iron railings that I would not venture out on. It looks like something out of New Orleans. It was too cold for us to enjoy it the two nights we were there, and I was sad about that. A separate patio boasts an inviting swimming pool, which you know was not original to the hotel.

Daughter Megan said we were in San Antonio to experience the entire history thing, and the Menger was part of that, and I’m glad we did it. I’ve heard about the Menger for years, never been there, not sure I’d stay another time although every single staff member we came in contact with was pleasant and helpful. It was that raised bathroom. If you haven’t been, you should go.

Tomorrow: my tour of the Alamo grounds and two fabulous restaurants. San Antonio is a great destination.

with my grandsons at the 

Alamo Society meeting

Aren't they adorable?

It’s a dog’s life

My war with Sophie escalated and took a drastic turn last night, and today I am awash with guilt. Poor thing had to go out between every hour and every two hours. She would come to the edge of my bed, dancing in impatience so that her nails went clickety-click on the floor. Honest, if she could have spoken, she would have said, “Please don’t be angry with me. I can’t help it.” She wagged her tail and looked at me with hope in those big eyes. Every time I let her out, I cautioned her to come right back in. Went through a half slice of Velveeta, coaxing her back into the house with tiny tidbits.

Of course, first thing this morning I was on the phone to the vet, and double of course, they needed to see her. They suspected, as I did, she had a bladder infection but didn’t want to prescribe antibiotics without seeing her. Jordan was tied up all day—delivering breakfast to a family who had just lost the mother (the daughter is one of Jordan’s good friends) and then this afternoon with the funeral and reception afterward. So I had no one to take Sophie to the vet, and I cannot manage my walker and a dog simultaneously. Called good friend Subie who was here in 20 minutes, and we dropped Sophie off. Subie said poor Soph was reluctant to go in the door, and when the tech came for her, she stiffened her front legs as though, “I am not going in there.”

Poor dear. It was mid-afternoon before Subie could go back and get her, but she’s home now and asleep in one of her favorite spots. I did take advantage of her absence to take a long nap, hoping to make up for the sleep I’ve missed. After this little adventure, my wallet is quite a bit lighter. I have to admit that I found the cottage a little lonely today without Sophie.

In a different way, it was a bonus day. Both my sons called me, coincidentally on the same day. I had been chasing Colin for several days about a business matter, but he had let his mailbox fill up and I couldn’t leave a message. But today he took care of business and called. This weekend he and his family go skiing, but he has promised to clear out his mailbox.

Jamie had intended to meet us in San Antonio this weekend but called to say his oldest, Maddie, would unexpectedly be home for the weekend. He’s excited about seeing her. Maddie is at U/Colorado and will be in Dallas with an ambassador group as part of the school’s recruitment program. So proud of that girl.

And the prospect is there that I may see both of them soon. Colin and his family will stop briefly a week from Saturday on their way back from skiing, and Jamie says his travel schedule is lightening up and he should be able to come from Frisco for a visit. Meantime I get to spend a weekend with both daughters and two grandsons.

No blogs for a few days. Jordan, Jacob, and I will take the Vonlane executive bus to Austin tomorrow mid-day, leaving Christian in charge of the compound and all three dogs, including getting medicine down Sophie. Wish him luck, please.

Megan will pick us up from the bus, we’ll gather Ford (Sawyer has three gigs all weekend), and head for San Antonio where I will sign my new book at the annual meeting of the Alamo Society. We have intriguing dinner reservations, including one evening at the restaurant affiliated with the Culinary Institute of America. I’m also hoping for a visit with a treasured old friend I haven’t seen in several years.

Yes, I have a bit of trepidation about travel in general and San Antonio in particular. A quarantined woman there was released by mistake, visited a mall and a hotel, and the city declared a public health emergency. Jordan is going to disinfect the world before we are allowed to touch anything. Lots of handwashing ahead. I do not normally panic about diseases, even flu epidemics, but the emphasis on the danger to those over sixty spooks me this time. I am well over sixty, as everyone knows. Still it will be a fun weekend, and I plan to enjoy it.

After that, if the virus spreads, I may become a recluse. Not hard for me to do, as I’m content staying in my cottage, but I do like visitors. And I do need groceries. Darn this disease!

Just looked at pictures of Nashville and surrounding towns. So awful. Pray for the people of Tennessee, even as we pray for those all over the world affected by the novel corona virus.

PS. Gourmet on a Hot Plate will be back next week.

A gray Monday

          The day didn’t start well—or at least started early, when Sophie decided she had to go out at 6:15. I managed to lure her back into the cottage—the magic of a tiny piece of Velveeta—and go back to bed until about eight. Ignored her when she exploded in barks around 7:15.

 Once I was up and going, the day didn’t look much brighter. Maybe because I checked MSNBC and got the latest news. Between the panic over COVID-19 and baseless speculation about the outcome of tomorrow’s Super Tuesday voting, I had a real urge to crawl back to bed.

Last night I watched a tape of “Mayor Pete’s” concession speech. Eloquent, articulate, delivered with passion and grace. It made me aware that I’ve sort of come to consciousness late in life. I certainly am paying more attention to what’s happening to our country, to the people running it and those who want to run it. Maybe the madness of trump forced me to this position, though Christian will tell you I’ve always been far left in my politics. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel much more aware. Buttigieg moved me to a few random tears last night—would that have happened twenty years ago? I don’t know. Maybe we all come to wisdom late.

We talked a bit about tomorrow’s primary last night at supper, and later, watching Buttigieg, I wished I had made a point to Jacob about being aware, being conscious. Maybe at thirteen he’d just have said, “Yeah, Juju.”

As I heard the vigorous applause and cheering last night, I sensed this was not Mayor Pete’s last rodeo. And Biden said it in his graceful tribute—Buttigieg is on the national stage now, and our nation will be better for it.

Then in the middle of today comes news that Klobuchar is pulling out and endorsing Biden. I haven’t seen her concession speech, though she was supposed to appear tonight in Dallas onstage with Biden. But good for her, like Pete, for putting the country before her personal ambition and doing what she thought would best steer us in a new direction. I’m encouraged.

As for the corona virus, I read today that one bookstore in China has an armed guard at the door. Customers must wear a mask and present a certificate of health; the guard takes their temperature. If all is well, they may enter and shop but must stay several feet away from any other customer. When you see how serious China is about this (admittedly late to the party), you do think maybe some of the fear in this country is justified. Jordan pointed out tonight that almost all people in China are heavy smokers—must make a difference.

Tonight the mayor of San Antonio has declared a public health emergency. Swell, because we’ve been so looking forward to a San Antonio getaway this weekend. Barring something extraordinary, we’re still going. The mayor said the risk to ordinary citizens is low. I suppose that means visitors too.

My complaint or whatever about attempts to calm the populace is that commentators almost always say it only kills those with already-compromised health and the elderly. Hey, that’s me. I’m elderly! But I’m in good health.

Today, like most of the country, we stocked up on hand sanitizers and, just in case of quarantine, toilet paper. After all, if there’s no epidemic, we can always use them, though I hate to be among those who empty the store shelves. On the other hand, if the danger becomes real, I’ll be glad to be a recluse.