That time of year again

Yes, that's right. It's Fiesta-time in San Antonio again. And the big kick-off event, as long-time readers will know, takes place right outside my [work] window, on the St. Mary's campus. It's Fiesta Oyster Bake, and it is a very big deal in these parts.

Since I got to campus before the event officially opened, I was able to get before-and-after pictures of one of the venues for you. 

BEFORE

AFTER

 Believe me, the crowds you see in the "after" picture are nothing compared to what will come later. I left the party around 3:00, not having any family attending to show around, and the big crowds don't show up until late afternoon.

Somewhere in the background of the photo on the left is the choir's Chocolate Covered Strawberry booth. This shot was taken just before I headed out to the bus stop.

Part of the reason we had a really good attendance this year (the choir sold out of their strawberries!) is that we were quite lucky with the weather. (One of the worst weather Bakes in memory is one that I've written about, in 2010.)

But it was great last weekend. Even a little bit cooler than normal! Quite welcome for folks toiling in the food booths. I put in my 2+ hours chopping the heads off strawberries, then headed for sustenance and a rest in the Volunteer Appreciation area. Here's a look at the Texas blue sky from my seat in this oasis of calm in the midst of the Bake:

Since last year I gave you a blow-by-blow description of the food I consumed at the party, I didn't feel obligated to eat as much this time. However, I still stuffed myself, even splurging on a cool Stella from the Draft Beer Wall as a reward for my hard strawberry-prepping work...

And I couldn't leave without my Cup O' Corn and Fried Cheesecake. But I did take a pass on this delicacy:

Even though I was on my own, the good music, good food, and great weather made for a very pleasant afternoon.

And a good time was had by all!

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But Oyster Bake just starts Fiesta week, and we did more participating in events than usual this year. Stay tuned for reports on this weekend's activities!

Wordless Wednesday: starting to come out

Remembering Oscar

I wrote about this roadside (actually, street-side) memorial a year and a half ago, when I first started riding the bus to work.

It's been on the median at the intersection where I catch the bus in the mornings for a very long time. I can't even remember when I first started noticing it, but it would have to be more than 10 years ago. Perhaps even a lot longer than that.

Inspired by this long-term commitment to a lost loved one, I decided last year to record the changes in the display and show you a year's worth of these lovely expressions of grief and never-lost affection.

The photo on the right will give you an idea of the memorial's immediate environment. And it also shows how they sometimes branch out and make the utility pole on the median part of  the testimonial. (Click on any of these photos to see more details of the displays, obviously constructed with such love and care.)

I've learned a lot about this family through these photographs. For one thing, Oscar was 18 years old when he died. That sad, sad, fact is noted on the Easter ribbon tied to the pole in the picture above.

That main Easter display is also an indication that this memorial isn't just the work of a grieving mother, as I had originally speculated. It's a family affair.

You'll see plastic eggs with many different names on them in the "grass" at the base of the display.

Last fall I first knew for sure that a whole family was involved, when I saw this display:

"Mom" is represented on the candle, but a sibling must also have taken part in making the memorial.

One of the most poignant aspects of taking this series of photos was following this tale of a family's love through the changing seasons. Since the family is Hispanic (another thing I've learned is Oscar's last name—Morales) it's not surprising that they would set up a Dia de los Muertos display around Halloween.

This really wonderful Mexican holiday celebrates the life of departed loved ones. I used to think it was a little creepy (probably because of the calaveras). But as I've learned more about it through living in San Antonio all these years, I've come to appreciate it in the proper spirit. It's a creative way of remembering details from a loved one's life.

And of course the other major holidays, secular and religious, are marked as well:

St. Patrick's Day

Valentine's Day

Fourth of July

and, of course, Christmas

And the seasons pass, not ever completely erasing the pain of the family's loss...

Winter gives way to spring...

...with another Valentine to send...

...and another Easter...

...then comes the heat of summer...

...sometimes soothed by a breeze to blow the pinwheel...

...and sometimes not...

...then it's fall again...

I can't begin to imagine this mother's pain (her name is Lupe, something else I've learned from the photos), but I can feel the importance that the place of her son's death must have for her.

I'm so moved by the fact that these loved ones have continued this work of remembrance (and caution—the public service that it provides in reminding drivers to be careful) for such a long time. I'll continue to catalog their memorials as a way of expressing my condolences. To Oscar's family.

Wordless Wednesday: not quite York vs. Lancaster...

Drama for dessert

Here's the promised postscript to my last post.

You'll recall we had a wonderful, scenic meal, floating on barges along the San Antonio River. (The luncheon was in honor of my [for now, just] locally famous niece, English horn principal and oboist with the San Antonio Symphony.)

As it happens, the honoree herself had just come onto our barge. She and her mom switched places before the dessert course so that they could each have time to visit with a different set of friends.

And it's very fortunate that the desserts hadn't been delivered, as we heard this loud THUMP and then noticed something that hadn't been on the table before. This was right where the dessert would have been for the lady sitting on my right.

What would you make of that? Odd enough, for sure, but then a sharp eye on the other side of the table noticed that the poor thing was headless! 

Now, the guys on the boat admitted later to being quite impressed that this barge-full of women were admirably calm and non-hysterical at this turn of events. (Although my sister-in-law commented later that since the woman in front of whom the unfortunate avian landed was a mother of six, there was probably little that could faze her!)

But we were all quite curious as to how this happened. I mean, after all, here we are, in the middle of downtown in the seventh largest city in the country, sitting at the dock in front of Paesano's waiting for our dessert—and BOOM! There is "nature red in tooth and claw" on display right in front of us!

A squirrel was first suspected as the culprit in this drama, but then some of the guys said they saw a hawk in the tree above us. He might be in this picture, but I didn't see him. However, I thought it forensically important to take a photo looking straight up:

It would be easier to credit a hawk than a squirrel with such a clean decapitation. So it was probably actually nature red in beak and claw, but the sentiment's the same. 

Yes, we all were rather calm about the incident, more excited about its story-telling potential than horrified at the sight. But I did notice that none of the luncheon guests moved to transfer the unfortunate pigeon to a more appropriate final resting place. Our boat driver did that, rather unceremoniously picking the carcass up with a napkin and depositing it in the bushes right on shore. Making room, of course, for the scrumptious desserts, which we proceeded to enjoy with no loss of appetite. Rather heartless, I guess, in retrospect, but my limoncello cake was really, really delicious.

My niece thought the whole thing was quite a hoot and made some significant Facebook mileage out of it, helped, I'm pleased to say, by my photo of the deceased.

As delightful and memorable as the luncheon would have been without this added drama, for sure it's now an outing none of us will ever forget!

Rollin' (and eatin') on the River

What a great place to have lunch!

Weekend before last I got to attend a great party—a luncheon for my niece on the San Antonio River downtown.

Not only was the location unique and incredibly scenic, and the company delightful, but the food was to die for. Since our barges were catered by Paesano's, one of our city's best restaurants.

They looked really nice, too, I think you'll agree. Here's the honoree's mom and some friends decorating the tables (I stopped helping for a minute to snap this):

...and the finished product, complete with the yummy first course...

However, the real attraction of the event was our wonderful river itself. How lucky we are to live in a city with such a marvelous strip of real estate! Here are some samples of the scenery we enjoyed while feasting, drinking, and visiting:

Neat architectural features, like the neo-Gothic touches around the windows of the Nix Hospital...

...the lovely tower atop our county courthouse...

...and another tower...this one is on "St. Joske's" church.

The natural features along the way are as impressive as the architectural...

...more lovely cypresses under a bridge...

...and all kinds of other landscaping.

Famous city landmarks, like the Arneson River Theatre
(where I saw compressed Shakespeare just about a year ago) are a special treat...

...along with our convention center (where I'll be on Labor Day—more about this later)...

...and the Cockrell Theatre in the convention center,
with its great mural (that's a hotel in the background).

Entering the Rivercenter Mall turnaround...

...along the turnaround...

...where we got to pass by the other barge in our party:

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I think we all left the luncheon not only full to the gills with delicious lunch (and, speaking for myself, as tipsy as I've ever been in the middle of the day!) but filled with a new pride in our city's main attraction.

We have the gentleman named on this balcony (click to see a larger image; I think this building used to be his office) to thank for most of it: Robert Hugman, the architect who designed our Riverwalk back in the 1930's.

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Something rather unusual and alarming happened just before the dessert course of the luncheon that left us with a great story to tell, too. I'll make a special post-script post and tell you about it.

Wordless Wednesday: instead of blogging...