Never prouder of my new home town

The great minds of the Pacific Northwest have developed a product to make absolutely everybody happy.

Bacon Salt. Salt that tastes like bacon. They are on a mission, they say, to make everything taste like bacon (even dessert?). They are in the news at the moment because they have launched Operation Bacon Salt (Operation B.S.?) to ship the stuff to the troops in Iraq, who apparently are suffering cruelly from the absence of bacon from their diets in that Muslim country. ("We're getting blown up by I.E.D.s, and we can't get any bacon??!!!") It's so un-American not to eat bacon at every meal, I guess.

But wait...actually, not only is this product kosher, it is also vegetarian! Contains no pig parts at all. I love the idea of these voracious bacon-cravers satisfying their deepest longing with something that I would actually eat. So thank you to the bacontrepreneurs* at Bacon Salt for helping out the troops, and to our men and women in harm's way, I say, "Go ahead! Pig out! I'll even join you!"

*I can't take credit for this play on words; I stole it from the P-I article (see link).

San Antonio

I got back from my business trip to San Antonio on Wednesday night. Several days of caressing warmth and sunshine were my welcome reward for having to do a conference presentation.


The most interesting part of the trip took place on Tuesday afternoon after the conference sessions were over for the day, when I went up to Trinity University to see my undergraduate alma mater. I parked in front of my old apartment on E. Rosewood. It still looks the same — it even looks like the landlord, Mr. Vick, is still using the same For Rent sign.



I lived in the two-bedroom unit on the upper right during my junior and senior years; friends lived downstairs. It was a great place to live — two blocks from campus, and just one block from a supermarket that's now a Blockbuster Video, alas.

From there I walked to campus, which has many familiar sights and a few new ones. Here's the lawn in front of the library, with the bronze sculptures I remember from my days there.



And this is the classic Trinity shot of the Henry Moore sculpture on the Esplanade with the bell tower in the back.


I took a lot of classes in Northrup Hall, which housed the English and modern languages departments, as well as the administrative offices. It used to be a long, low, narrow, nondescript building. Here it is today:


The fountain in the foreground used to be located in the plaza at the main campus entrance. Not only has it been moved, but it has been sunk below the prevailing ground level in such a way that when you're walking towards it from the library, all you can see is water seeming to spurt from the grass. It's a nice effect.

Just for fun, I went into Northrup Hall and checked the faculty directory for my former English professors. Some of them are still there, eighteen years later: Peter Balbert, Vicki Aarons, Scott Baird, Judith Fisher, Willis Salomon. Also Colleen Grissom, "Dean Colleen," who was dean of students when I was there but who has gone back to teaching in the English department. I didn't try to see any of them; I was a little bit afraid to see these folks suddenly aged by almost twenty years, only to remember that I've also aged the same amount.

After a visit to campus, it was time to see if I could find the Party House. This was an old white two-story home on McCullough a little south and west of campus, where generations of Trinity students lived and, naturally, hosted parties. I couldn't remember exactly where it was, so I drove as slowly as I dared down McCullough until I saw what I was pretty sure was it. Amazingly, it looks about the same.


The crooked steps and the porch, good for sitting outside on warm South Texas nights; the silly yet somehow appealing classical columns; the untended green patch behind the little retaining wall — they all look more or less as I remember them. Someone must be maintaining the place. Suddenly, I didn't feel so old.

Time for a snack, so I set off to find Taco Cabana. I had it accurately placed on my mental map at a busy intersection on Hildebrand, but I couldn't remember the name of the cross-street, so I drove west until I hit San Pedro, the most likely major thoroughfare, and sure enough, TC's is still there. I was ecstatic.




The old sign has been replaced with something more corporate-looking, which disappointed me, but at least the restaurant itself hasn't changed. I got a couple of soft tacos and drifted off into nostalgia.

Taco Cabana is still there, but Tycoon Flats, our other most-frequent hangout, no longer seems to be a going concern. After I finished my tacos I went south of campus to N. St Mary's Street, wondering if the blocks around Tycoon Flats had perhaps grown up into a lively commercial district in my absence. Unfortunately, the street looked a little run-down and depressed, and Flats looks like it's out of business and vacant.

I was starting to feel bummed out that I couldn't share all these memories (not to mention the warm weather!) with David, until I had the happy thought that I do have a milestone college reunion year coming up just two years from now, giving me a perfect excuse to go back. Alumni Weekend 2010 is scheduled for October 22-24; if you are a Trinity classmate of mine and you're reading this, mark your calendar!

A Puck that has nothing to do with hockey

I’ve been contending with a cold and its nasty sequela, a mild sinus infection, for the past couple of weeks. Fortunately I only really felt sick for the first four days; the rest of the time I’ve just been processing the aftermath. (That’s my euphemism for the lingering mucus activity in my chest and head.) Now David has come down with what I hope is the same thing I had; otherwise it’ll be back on the merry-go-round for me. (It seems very convenient of nature to wait until I was feeling well, and only then bring David down; that way one of us is well enough to take care of the other one.)

Last Friday night we went to see “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” at the Pacific Northwest Ballet — choreography by Balanchine to the music of Mendelssohn. It might not have occurred to me to go to the ballet, but the guy in the cubicle next to mine happens to be on the board of the PNB, and he gave me a 2-for-1 coupon for tickets to any performance. “It’s the second-best ballet company on the West Coast, after San Francisco,” he told me. I didn’t tell him that I managed to live in San Francisco for twelve years without ever seeing the ballet (except for one free outdoor performance at Stern Grove), but that was due more to preoccupation with other things than any antipathy to ballet itself.

And now I’m kicking myself for not seeing the SF Ballet when I had a chance, because I enjoyed the PNB’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” so much that I wish I had been going to the ballet all along. The dancing was impressive, the live orchestra played very well, and the costumes were great. That sneaky co-worker of mine…he may have gotten me hooked!

I especially enjoyed seeing all the little girls attending with their moms, wearing their dress-up clothes, so excited to be out for a grown-up evening. It reminded me of one of my happiest memories of growing up, going with my mom to see Shakespeare plays every summer at the Old Globe Theatre in San Diego. At first it was mostly about getting to have a special outing just the two of us, and dressing up in my long skirt and costume jewelry, and getting a tin of French hard candies at intermission, but soon I was falling in love with Shakespeare, with the language and with the art of performance — and who can measure the influence that love has had on me ever since. So bravo, moms, and welcome, girls. You’re starting something that will last a lifetime.