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?