NOVEMBER 2018
MUCH MORE THAN SOUP
• Pay-It-Forward Soup Program • Beautiful Patio Dining • Pet Friendly Atmosphere • Game Nights
115 Adler Road | Boerne, Texas 78006 | (830) 816-5746 | www.boernesoupkitchen.com | facebook.com/BSKBoerne
YOU BUILT YOUR LIFE. YOU BUILT YOUR DREAM HOUSE. NOW BUILD YOUR SOIL. Soil health is the key to tree health. It’s no secret we have poor soil in the Hill Country. We can help your trees overcome these obstacles.
CERTIFIED ARBORIST DEEP ROOT FERTILIZATION AIR SPADE TREATMENT TREE PRUNING TREE REMOVAL BALL MOSS REMOVAL TREE MITIGATION PLANTING STUMP GRINDING
www.burkettarborcare.com | 830.229.5700 | Contact us for a FREE ESTIMATE
your local Design Build Firm servicing the greater Boerne and Texas Hill Country, as well as North San Antonio.
Specializing in:
Other Features:
Architectural color rendered master plan
• Irrigation Installation and Repair (including water efficient drip irrigation)
including brilliant images and plant descriptions in both 2D & 3D, outlining 10 months of color with a balance between evergreen and deciduous foliage containing movement throughout, resulting in low maintenance, drought tolerant and deer resistant landscape.
• Outdoor Kitchen • Lot Clearing, Cedar Tree Removal and Mulching • Outdoor Lighting • Hardscape (including Fire Pits, Seat Walls, Retaining Walls, Flagstone Patios, Stained and Stamped Concrete, Arbors, Pergolas, Split Rail Cedar Fencing, and more)
Stop in and see us, our associates are ready to assist you. 3 2 2 5 5 I H 1 0 Wes t , B oer n e, TX 78006 | Tel : 830. 816. 3200 | Fax: 830.249.3090 w w w.acaci al an d s cap ean dd es i gn . com
DIFFERENT BY NATURE Relax | Experience | Enjoy
Newly Remodeled • Luxury Shaves In Our New Spa Room
Now Booking Women’s Experiences We Are Truly Thankful For Our Clients This Holiday Season! 930 E. Blanco, Boerne - 830.443.4500 www.hamilton-co.com EXPERIENCE the difference
CONTENTS
CONTRIBUTING WRITERS Marjorie Hagy History Marjorie is a bibliophile, a history nut and an insomniac, among several other conditions, both diagnosed and otherwise. When she's not working tirelessly to avoid getting a real job, she nurses an obsession with her grandson and is involved in passing legislation restricting the wearing of socks with sandals. She is an aspiring pet hoarder who enjoys vicious games of Scrabble, reading Agatha Christie, and sitting around doing nothing while claiming to be thinking deeply. Marjorie has five grown children, a poodle to whom she is inordinately devoted in spite of his breath, and holds an Explore record for never having submitted an article on time. She's been writing for us for five years now.
Old Timer Just Old Timer The Old Timer tells us he's been a resident of Boerne since about 1965. He enjoys telling people what he doesn't like. When not bust'n punks he can be found feeding the ducks just off Main St. or wandering aimlessly in the newly expanded HEB. Despite his rough and sometimes brash persona, Old Timer is really a wise and thoughtful individual. If you can sort through the BS.
Kendall D. Aaron Spiritual I’m just a normal guy. I’m not a theology student, I don’t preach in church, and I’ve never written a book. I’m just a normal guy that thinks, and feels, and is on a never-ending journey attempting to be the best person I can be. I fail frequently at this quest, yet each day, the quest continues. I’ve lived in Boerne since the late ‘80s, I’ve got a most beautiful wife, three wonderful children, and just really, really love God. Thanks for going on my spiritual journey with me.
10 From The Publisher
24 History
12
30 Spiritual
in Boerne, TX. EXPLORE Magazine and Schooley Media
16 Strange Thanksgiving Food
34
Boerne Performing Arts
information, or typographical errors contained in this
20 Badass of the Month
38
Old Timer
Calendar
EXPLORE magazine is published by Schooley Media Ventures Ventures are not responsible for any inaccuracies, erroneous publication submitted by advertisers. Opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect the opinions of EXPLORE and/or Schooley Media Ventures. Copyright 2016 Schooley Media Ventures, 930 E. Blanco, Ste. 200, Boerne, TX 78006
Publisher Benjamin D. Schooley ben@hillcountryexplore.com
8 | EXPLORE
Operations Manager Peggy Schooley peggy@smvtexas.vom
Creative Director Benjamin N. Weber ben.weber@smvtexas.com
ADVERTISING SALES 210-507-5250 sales@hillcountryexplore.com
C E L E B R AT E T H E H O L I D AY S AT D OB B S BOOK YOUR HOLIDAY EVENT TODAY
512 RIVER RD.
|
BOERNE, T X
|
NE XT TO LIT TLE GRETEL
DEAREST EXPLORE READER, I thought about this little column, and its origins. Most of you won’t know this, but my Publisher Letter used to be super dry and boring. “Welcome to this issue. We have a great article on….and a neat piece about…and be sure to check out….” type stuff. It bored me, but I thought that was what I was supposed to do. One day, on a lark, I was sitting under a tree in Luckenbach with my laptop and I just started rambling about the random people that I was seeing. The hippie. The stoner. The biker. The sorority girl. Their stories and why they were in Luckenbach, and about how it just sort of all made sense sometimes for us to sit around as people, drink beer, and simply BE. I dared myself to publish the article as my Publisher’s Letter, and the feedback was loud. People liked it. Facebook didn’t exist then, but I got a lot of emails about how it made them chuckle and think, and I just thought to myself “Well, maybe I have more to say.” So for 11 years, I’ve hammered these little letters out and some have made people smile, some cry, some have been terrible, and some have been ones I’m quite proud. I tell people frequently that this letter is the hardest that I write each month because there’s no subject matter. I’m not writing about motorcycles or art or music…I like to tell myself that I’m just writing about LIFE. Talk about a broad subject. It sounds counterintuitive, but remove all restrictions upon your writing and it becomes very difficult to hone your message. I just went on a long motorcycle ride. I have an old and cheap Suzuki cruiser (big and heavy) that I like to cruise around on. I bought it primarily as a moneysaving vehicle because of fuel costs with my truck, but having spent the better part of my life in the saddle of a motorcycle, I find it more therapeutic sometimes as opposed to my penny-pinching purpose. It’s still cheaper than therapy, right? I’m back from about 4 hours of toodling around backroads, listening to some light music, feeling the wind, looking frequently up into the sky to marvel at the clouds. Basically, just BEING. I don’t do as much of that as I’d like anymore, but from time to time, I still try to stop long enough to recognize the moment, remember the smells, feel the sun, and if I’m feeling particularly light-hearted, even smiling as a pretty woman walks by. Yes, sometimes we must all remember to live, even when we think we’ve forgotten how. I rode and rode today, and I unpacked all sorts of issues in my helmet as I cruised along. I shook my head at my thoughts, I laughed inside my helmet, and I had to shake out negative thoughts a time or two. But rest assured, I just spent almost 4 hours thinking about this article. One thing that you’ll learn if you ever try to write professionally is that your ideas and your inspirations are like vapors. They come to you, and you convince yourself that this great idea you just had will never leave you, and then you are saddened to learn 24 hours later that you cannot remember the details of WHY it was such a great idea. They come to you, and then they vanish as you reach for them. So here I sit, sweaty still from my ride, and I’m hammering this out because my “great idea” that just came to me is still fresh in my mind, so let’s see if I can translate it to paper fast enough. As I rode today, the overwhelming recurring thought that I kept having was sort of marveling at the fact that I realized that I’ve been writing this little letter (and publishing this magazine) for over 11 years now. That blows my mind. My kids were babies (or not even born yet). I have been sitting down to crappy laptops once a month for 11 years and hammering out these random little letters and doing so with moderate success. I have long laughed that when I think I’ve knocked it out of the park with my writing, nobody says anything to me. When I think that my letter is terrible, sure enough, I get 10 emails from people telling me how much they enjoy it. I don’t know if that means my gauge for greatness is screwed, or yours is, but nevertheless.
10 | EXPLORE
I’ve written about my brother. And his death. I’ve written about divorce. I’ve ranted about the ducks on River Road, made fun of local government, told stories about dogs, reminisced about schoolyard fights I was in, and shared secrets about the inner workings of my family. I’ve unpacked religion, faith, love, anger, fear, dread and anxiety. I’ve even bitched about the entire town of Houston. I’ve gone from here to there and back again with this silly letter, and as I rode along a backroad today, I kind of smiled about that. Not in a proud way, but in a “laugh at yourself ” kind of way. I mean, I’m no philosopher. I’m not reading Socrates or Plato before bed each evening, and I’m not one to be quoted for my profound brilliance month to month as I assure you that there is little to be had. But I write. And people read. And every once in a while, someone writes me and says “Hey man – just wanted you to know that I really liked what you had to say. It meant a lot to me.” As the recipient, I soak it up like a sponge and it keeps me motivated to keep trying to say something so brilliant, so profound…that you’ll tell a friend. But really, I think I speak for writers worldwide when I say that all we ever really want is to have our words TOUCH you. Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t. I don’t know. Here we sit, 133 Publisher’s Letters later, and I’m still claiming that I have something to say. I drove little winding roads in Texas all alone, and had only my thoughts to keep me company. I stopped at one of my favorite little jaunts (which is not much more than a shed with a BBQ smoker in the back). I know the owner and he sat down with me and we shared updates on our lives, and bitched about women, complained about growth, and talked football. You know, guy stuff. As I pulled away with a wave to my friend, I thought, “I wonder what HE has to say.” With that thought and 100 miles of nothing in front of me, I spent some time thinking about how egotistical I can be to think that my words are important. To anyone. They’re just words that I put down on a cheap laptop, and despite my aspirations to inspire the world via my amazing wordsmithing, at the end of the day, I’m just some guy with a little magazine in a little town who happens to write rambling letters that SOME people find enjoyable from time to time. Let’s be honest – I’m not winning a Pulitzer Prize anytime soon. I’m not trying to be self-deprecating. I really do have a point. Bear with me.
People tell me all the time that they are not writers. People tell me that because I write, but I don’t think I’m a writer either. I just have taken a small talent and crafted it as best I can into something that works. But people tell me that, and to them, it’s almost a surrender to their perceived inability to express some wonderfully deep and profound knowledge or truths. I find that depressing, and as I dodged an armadillo and honked at cows in meadows, I did what I always do: I thought about people for a really, really long time. People tend to be expressive, or pretty non-expressive. It applies to both men and women. We all tend to think that women are far more expressive, but I have known many that were so guarded with their words that it takes a lot to get them to open up. My grandma was like that – she probably possessed an encyclopedia of information in her heart, but you would rarely get much more than “You are too skinny! Come here and let me feed you!”. I have known countless people on either side of the coin, but here’s one thing that I’ve come to know for certifiable fact: in our own heads, we have so very much to share. Every single one of us. I type silly Publisher’s Letters and pat myself on the back about the good ones, and groan about the bad ones. I have friends that want to be bestselling authors and spend great energies crafting their ability to express themselves. But I also know people that are quiet, and stare at their beer at the end of the bar while they quietly ponder existence. Tell me who can unpack what they want to say for me better. The answer: I’m not sure. The more I move through life, and the more that I learn (the good and the bad), my appreciation for people never diminishes; it only increases. A motorcycle, some blue skies, a little wind noise, and I smiled realizing that I bet if you and I sat down and talked about virtually any topic, no matter how introverted you might be, you could teach me something. No matter how much you would shrug your shoulders, or say “I don’t know” or stare off into the distance, the reality is that I want what you have: perspective that’s not my own. Slow down, people. Go on a motorcycle ride. Forget about our beliefs that the world revolves around each of us. Think about those in your circle that might know more than you think they do. Not people like me that make a ton of noise and puke out endless thoughts and feelings… but those that might do the opposite. We all have knowledge. And feelings. And emotions that are simply percolating as they look for a way out. As I drove a zillion miles of Hill Country bliss, I suppose I just realized that it’s yet another way that, despite our differences, we are all the same: we all want to just be heard. The trick is to listen. Even people like me, who seem to never shut up, would be smart to remember that sometimes the listening is where the learning happens. And we should all learn until the day we die. Welcome to November. Goodness gracious, we’ve had a little cold snap here, and it’s wonderful. Enjoy this season, talk to your friends, and EXPLORE their minds. The wisdom of lifetimes is sitting all around you every day. You just have to want to find it. Smiling,
ben@hillcountryexplore.com
Authentic
WE ARE
Y O U’ V E T RI ED O UR BRE AKFA ST. N O W C OM E I N FOR D INNE R .
518 River Road | Boerne, TX | www.littlegretel.com | 830-331-1368
AREA EVENTS
Get out and enjoy the great Texas Hill Country!
The most comprehensive events calendar. Send submissions to info@hillcountryexplore.com
BANDERA November 3 Annual Hunter’s Game Dinner Enjoy a washer tournament, music, dinner, and gun raffle at this event sponsored by the Medina Volunteer Fire Department. The Farm Country Club, 475 Pue Road. banderacowboycapital.com 830-796-3045
November 17 Gillespie County Wild Game Dinner Evening offers wild game appetizers, beverages, live auction, raffle, and silent auction benefiting youth and adult agricultural education in the Texas Hill Country. Gillespie County Fairgrounds, 530 Fair Drive. facebook.com/pg/gillespiecounty-wild-game-dinner 830-998-1815
November 3, 10, 17, 24 Bandera Cattle Company Gunfighters Experience the excitement of the Wild West with re-created shootouts. Shows are at high noon and 2 p.m. Bandera Visitors Center, 126 SH 16 S. banderacowboycapital.com 830-796-3045
November 17-18 WWII Pacific Combat Zone Enjoy an educational experience you won’t find anywhere else from the new amphitheater seating, followed by a battle re-enactment set on an island some- where in the Pacific. Hear the rattle of machine gun fire, the echoing blast of grenades, and feel the searing heat of the flamethrower as joint U.S. forces take the Japanese-controlled hill. National Museum of the Pacific War, 311 E. Austin. pacificwarmuseum.org
November 3 Bandera Market Days Shop arts and crafts vendors in downtown Bandera. Bandera County Courthouse Lawn, 500 Main St. banderacowboycapital. com 830-796-3045 November 3, 10, 17, 24 Cowboys on Main Every Saturday expect to see and inter- act with a sample of the Old West cowboy lifestyle on Bandera Main Street. banderacowboycapital.com 830-796-3045 November 6 Cowboy Capital Opry Grand Old Oprystyle entertainment is hosted by Gerry and Harriet Payne. Includes refreshments and door prizes. Silver Sage Community Center, 803 Buck Creek. banderacowboycapital.com 830-796-3045 November 10 Bandera Honors Veterans Includes military memorabilia, music, a 1 p.m. parade, veterans barbecue and Military Service Cake, and special surprises from San Antonio Pipe & Drum and USAA Brass. Bandera County Courthouse, 500 Main St. banderacowboycapital.com 830-796-3045 BOERNE November 10 Red, White, and Brews Honoring veterans Saturday November 10th. RANDOM Beer Garden and Texas VFW bring you live music, gun raffles, and food. Bring your flags to retire properly. RANDOM Beer Garden, 11 Upper Cibolo Creek Rd. COMFORT November 10 Diva Day Local businesses pull out the stops to create a day away for the ladies. Sample food and drink as you shop. Downtown Comfort. comfort-texas.com 830-995-3131 November 13 Girls Night Out Downtown Comfort merchants put on a festive evening for the ladies. Shop, sip, and savor your way through the historic commercial district of Comfort. Downtown Comfort. comfort-texas. com 830-995-3131 November 24 Christmas in Comfort Arts and crafts festival lines several blocks in the historic district of Comfort for your Christmas shopping pleasure. Food vendors, live musical entertainment, and activities for the kids. Nighttime lighted parade is followed by fireworks. Historic Downtown, Area of Seventh and High streets. comfort-texas.com 830-995-3131 FREDERICKSBURG November 2 First Friday Art Walk Fredericksburg Tour fine art galleries offering special exhibits, demonstrations, refreshments, and extended viewing hours the first Friday of every month. Participating fine art galleries in Fredericksburg. ffawf.com 830-997-6523 November 3 Herbstfest German Chorale Fall Concert Enjoy an evening of German singing and Fredericks- burg Gemutlichkeit. Light refreshments pro- vided. St. Joseph’s Halle, 212 W. San Antonio. 830-456-1713 November 11 Veterans Day Parade and Concert Includes a special commemoration of the 100th anniversary of the ending of WWI, with marching bands, vintage vehicles and equipment, a flyover, and WWI-era music. Main Street and Marktplatz. texasworldwar1centennial.org 830997-3758 November 16-18, 23-25 Fredericksburg Trade Days Shop twice in November from more than 400 vendors in seven barns, featuring acres of antiques, a biergarten, live music, and more. 355 Sunday Farms Lane. fbgtradedays.com 830-990-4900
12 | EXPLORE
November 23 Annual Lighting of the Community Christmas Tree and German Pyramid Capture the spirit and celebration of Christmas through rich German heritage with refreshments, caroling, and the countdown to flipping the switch. Marktplatz, 100 block of W. Main. visitfredericksburgtx.com 830-997-6523 November 23-January 6, 2019 Eisbahn Outdoor Ice Skating Annual seasonal outdoor ice skating event benefits The Heritage School, the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation, and the Boys and Girls Club of Fredericksburg. Marktplatz, 100 block of W. Main. skateinfred.com 830-997-6597 November 23-25 The Peddler Holiday Show Celebrates 40 years as one of Texas’ favorite arts and crafts shows. Gillespie County Fairgrounds, 530 Fair Drive. peddlershow.com 800-775-2774 GRUENE November 13 Sip-N-Shop Stroll through Gruene Historic District enjoying complimentary beverages and special offers at the many participating shops. This event is also the official “Kringle Cash” kickoff, available at select retailers. Stroll as long as you can, then rest your feet at Gruene Hall with live music. Gruene Historic District, 1601 Hunter Road. holidaysingruene.com 830-515-1914 November 15 Come and Taste It A featured winery showcases three of its new- est released, top-selling, or hardest-to-find wines, alongside a craft brew hand-picked by The Grapevine staff. The complimentary tastings are held on the patio and garden. Samples of food that is offered for sale will be provided, and each event features live music and prize giveaways. The Grapevine, 1612 Hunter Road. grapevineingruene.com 830-606-0093 November 17-18 Gruene Market Days This monthly event (except January) has been held for more than 30 years and features more than 100 artisans offering handmade items. Free parking, admission, and live entertainment. Gruene Historic District, 1601 Hunter Road. holidaysingruene. com 830-515-1914 November 17-18, 23-25 Holidays in Gruene—Photos with Cowboy Kringle Create a Christmas memory with photos with Cowboy Kringle, Gruene’s own brand of Santa. Pictures will be taken in the breezeway between The Grapevine and Gruene General Store. Weekends only. Gruene Historic District, 1612 Hunter Road. holidaysingruene.com 830-515-1914 KERRVILLE November 3 Kerr County Market Days Features an indoor marketplace for vendors of original handcrafted goods, art- work, and homegrown plants and produce. Pets on a leash are welcome. Kerr County Hill Country Youth Event Center, 3785 SH 27. kerrmarketdays.org 830-895-7524 November 11 Kerr County Veterans Day Parade Parade will travel west on Jefferson Street toward the Kerr County Courthouse. 830-792-2203 November 16-18 Texas Shamble Golf Tournament Texas Golf Association presents a two-person shamble. Riverhill Golf Course, 100 Riverhill Club Lane. riverhillcc.com 830-896-1400
November 17-18 Holiday Lighted Parade & Courthouse Lighting Ceremony Officially welcome the holiday season with the 18th annual lighted parade and the arrival of Santa Claus on his signature fire truck. After the parade, enjoy a Christmas program, caroling, and the 39th annual lighting of the Court- house and 45-foot tree ceremony. Kerr County Courthouse, 700 Main St. kerrvilletx.gov 830-258-1151 November 17-18 Texas Gun & Knife Show Features new and used guns, knives, gold and silver coins, jewelry, camping gear, military supplies, and several businesses under one roof. Kerr County Hill Country Youth Event Center, 3785 SH 27. texasgunandknifeshows.com 830285-0575 NEW BRAUNFELS November 2-11 Wurstfest! During the 10-day festival, you’ll find a variety of entertainment, food, and fun on the Wurstfest grounds in Landa Park as well as many special events throughout New Braunfels and Comal County. 120 Landa St. wurstfest.com 830-625-9167 November 16 Downtown Christmas Tree Lighting The City of New Braunfels invites everyone to ring in the holiday season with the arrival of Santa Claus beneath 100,000 twinkling lights in historic downtown New Braunfels. The dazzling dis- play of lights stretches through downtown and will remain lit for the holiday season. Down- town New Braunfels, Main Plaza. nbtexas.org 830-221-4350 November 16-18 Wiehnachtsmarkt The weekend before Thanksgiving, this New Braunfels tradition, pronounced Vy-noks-markt, offers the charm of openair Christmas markets of Germany, except indoors. Enjoy Gemutlichkeit and fun at this three-day market supporting history education and preservation through the Sophienburg Museum and Archives. Shop more than 60 merchants and artisans offering unique German collectibles, foods and ornaments, holiday decorations, apparel, jewelry, and gifts. New Braunfels Civic & Convention Center, 375 S. Castell Ave. sophienburg.com 830-629-1572 November 30-December 1 Christkindlmarkt Commemorate the German heritage of the city with Christkindlmarkt —an open-air Christmas market where visitors will enjoy German-inspired food, craft beer, and live entertainment. Shop for Christmas ornaments, toys, books, and more. Family friendly activities include face painters, a rock climbing wall, bungee trampolines, and walk-on-water balls. Parking and admission are free. New Braunfels Conservation Plaza, 1300 Church Hill Drive. ckmnbtx.org PIPE CREEK November 3 Annual Turkey Shoot Join the Castle Lake Ranch VFD for this annual event with raffle and silent auction. Castle Lake Ranch VFD, 3801 Bear Creek Road. banderacowboycapital.com 830-796-3045 WIMBERLEY November 9-December 2 “The Lion in Winter” Betrayal, treachery, and a knife fight: every family has its ups and downs. A performance by the Wimberley Players. Wimberley Playhouse, 450 Old Kyle Road. wimberleyplayers.org 512-847-0575 November 9-10 Wimberley Home Tour Visit homes with amazing stories of renovation, green technology, and use of local materials. This annual fundraiser provides grants to nonprofit organizations and scholarships to local students. Various locations. wimberleyccc.org November 15 Kevin Welch in Concert A performance by singer-songwriter Kevin Welch. Proceeds largely benefit the artist but what is left over supports mission opportunities. Susanna’s Kitchen, 1200 CR 1492. wimberleyumc.org 512-847-3109 November 16-17 Wimberley Winter Wonderland Visit the wonderland of Thanksgiving and Christmas trees, wreaths and centerpieces created by local artists and talented, crafty people. Enjoy holiday music, refreshments, and a visit with Santa. Wimberley Community Center, 14068 RR 12. wimberley.org
BY C I S U M E LIV BAND E C A R G MARCIE BEER T F A R C & FOOD FUN FLES GUN RAF GS: A L F S U ORN W R U LY O R Y E P G O N I R R P B ORY L G D L O RETIRING NE O Z S D I K LY & D N E I R F DOG
T 688 S O P VFW
.
er
RS
YEA 0 0 1 ING T A R O EM M W1 M W O C E C SIN
11 Upp
ek Rd e r C o l Cibo
6 2 0 3 8 830-42 mT
/Rando
n ilyFu
am ex asF
ex as T m o d Ran
/
Rdn eRGa e B m ndo
t /Ra
Book Your Holiday Event At Random Today!
24 Wasp Creek Rd. Boerne, TX 78006 830.777.6704 SaintTryphon.com @sainttryphonwine #COMETASTETEXAS
REAL. TEXAS. WINE. Open THURSDAY - SUNDAY
Boerne’s FIRST Winery
100% Texas Wine
Voted top 100 agency in the United States
Your Hometown Home Care and Hospice Provider Is Now Five-Star Rated! 830-331-1291
37131 IH-10 West, Suite 400 • Boerne, TX 78006
Visit us on the web at www.allcountyboerne.com 14 | EXPLORE
Locally owned & operated serving San Antonio and the Texas Hill Country since 2007
Home Care
Skilled Nursing Therapy Services Specialty Programs Home Health Aides Palliative Care Wound Care
Hospice Care
Nursing Care Pain and Symptom Management Emotional and Spiritual Support Hospice Aides Trained Volunteers Medical Social Worker
Break out the basters and the pop up timers. IT’S THANKSGIVING! Everyone has their own definition of what Thanksgiving is and how it should be done, but in general, there isn’t a lot of variation. Turkey, maybe ham, bread, mashed potatoes, yams, dressing, cranberry sauce and mountains of desserts. However, there is an unfortunate trend these days to reinvent things for the sake of nonconformity. To that we say BAH!! The only nonconformity we will accept during this season is our clothes to our bodies after gorging at the altar of calories. But that’s why God invented man to invent sweatpants. Here are some new fangled takes on Thanksgiving and what we think of them.
THE LEFT OVER ROLL
Basically you take what would be your traditional turkey dinner and Hippie-fy it. Smoked turkey breast, traditional stuffing, dried cranberries, green beans, cream cheese, tempura battered and fried, served with cranberry wasabi and red wine soy demiglace. Yeah, we know sushi is popular and we like a good California roll as much as the next person. But let’s leave sushi where it belongs. In a Benihana.
TURKEY CAKE
At first glance this looks like it might be a yummy cake. But then you realize those layers are meat, stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, marshmallows and sweet potatoes. It’s said people eat with their eyes. And right now my eyes want to vomit.
PUMPKIN SPICE TACOS TURBACONDUCKEN
That’s right, a chicken inside a duck inside a turkey, all wrapped in bacon. Fifty-seven vegetarians just died of a stroke reading that. Which is just about every vegetarian in Kendall county. Other than looking like it belongs in the starring roll of a horror movie it’s probably pretty tasty. Though we get meat sweats just looking at it. You’re welcome CrossFitters.
STUFF IN JELL-O
The year is 1972. Putting stuff in Jell-O is all the rage. Everything. We mean EVERY. THING. Yes, that’s shrimp in that lime jell-o. Let us pray to the Lord on high that every single one of these cook books are, found and burned. Then the ashes burned, put into a large concrete container and sent to the deepest depths of the ocean. Or into space. We’d be happy with both.
16 | EXPLORE
This one actually doesn’t look too bad. It jumps on the pumpkin flavoring bandwagon and it’s a pretty simple taco. Our beef with this one is obvious. Thanksgiving is about eating your body weight in food. Then sitting in a LaZ-Boy and slipping into a coma until December 23rd. This screams of dainty tapas and raised pinky fingers. What good is Thanksgiving if you don’t have to go put on sweatpants after the meal?
THANKSGIVING DOG
This one actually doesn’t sound too terrible. Instead of using the traditional fancy shmancy plate to put your food on, just throw it on a hot dog. It might actually be a pretty good idea for those who have 37 different houses to visit on Thanksgiving. If you want to go the EXTRA authentic route you can make sure it’s a turkey hot dog. But then, that wouldn’t be very American of you now would it?
1499 S. Main Street
Boerne, TX 78006 (next to the Dog & Pony Grill)
boernefarmhouse@gmail.com
830-331-1391
Visit Our Newest Location
Downright Comfort! GIFTS • RUGS • DECOR • COWHIDES FURNITURE & CUSTOM UPHOLSTERY
Like us on Facebook
Unique decor and gifts. Featuring natural, vintage, antique and one-of-a-kind trinkets and treasures from around the globe!
DOWNRIGHT COMFORT 205 TX-27 Comfort, TX 78013
SAN ANTONIO 210-642-8310 555 W. Bitters Rd. • San Antonio (The Alley on Bitters)
BOERNE 830-331-1201 107 E. San Antonio Ave. • Boerne (Next to the Courthouse)
COMFORT 830 201-0214 523 8th St. • Comfort (Inside the 8th Street Market)
WWW.HILLCOUNTRYEXPLORE.COM | NOVEMBER 2018
| 19
BADASS OF THE MONTH
M 20 | EXPLORE
Mess Attendant First Class Doris “Dorie” miller was born in Waco in 1919, the son of a couple of parents that spent their lives as sharecroppers traveling the land working cotton fields. Forever in poverty, Dorie grew to be one of the most unlikely heroes on one of America’s darkest days, and inspired countless people from his actions of bravery and general badass-ery.
On the morning of December 7, 1941, Dorie was collecting laundry from the bunks when he heard the entire world come apart above him. Two hundred Japanese plans, fighters, and bombers of every imagineable variety had descended upon Pearl Harbor to unleash hell, and they did so very well. The majority of American battleship power was knocked out, and Dorie was in the middle of the craziest military madhouse since the Civil War. Dorie did as he had been instructed, which was to get to his battle station. His typical station was a smaller antiaircraft gun on one of the middle decks, but when he got there, he saw that a torpedo had already blown it to hell. This pissed Dorie off, so in true Badass form, he shrugged his shoulders and headed for the top deck to see what he could do to help. At this point, the situation on the West Virginia was as bad as it gets. Bullets, bombs, and torpedoes were flying everywhere, the whole damn ship was on fire, and men were dead and dying everywhere. Dorie just started picking guys up and throwing them over his shoulders as he took them to areas of the ship where they were protected from the aircraft gun spray. He saw that his ship’s Commander, Captain Bennion, had been hit and was lying out in the open. This further pissed off Dorie, who rushed to him, threw him over his shoulder while dodging gunfire and shrapnel and got him a safe spot.
Dorie attended high school and was the star running back for the local high school, kicking ass every Friday night under the lights. Then he worked two jobs during the Great Depression just to help the family and keep food on the table. He was a busy guy and had no problem doing what had to be done. In 1939, the 19 year old enlisted in the Navy as a way to get out of Waco and have a respite from the poverty he had always known. That, and cooking burgers at the local burger joint was probably getting old, as was stiff-arming his way to stardom on Fridays. Upon his completion of Basic Training, he was assigned as Mess Attendant Third Class on the USS Pyro (which is a kick-ass name for a ship) where he pretty much did whatever had to be done in the kitchen, which was a typical assignment in those days for blacks. It certainly wasn’t the sexiest job in the Navy, but it was one of the few that was assigned to blacks in those days, and he made a solid wage, and was able to send much of it home to his family. From there, Dorie was transferred to the USS West Virginia and he was sent out to enjoy some of the sunny beaches of Hawaii. Namely, Pearl Harbor. Pretty girls, perfect water, and amazing shorelines was a heckuva lot better than most assignments. When Dorie wasn’t hanging on the beach or keeping the West Virginia in line, he then became the heavyweight boxing champion for the ship, kicking many an ass on his way to his title, with a ship of over 2000 men. Basically, Dorie was the baddest badass on the ship, and everyone knew it.
If this were the end of the story, we would agree that Dorie was a badass. But no, we are not done. After saving countless lives, Dorie saw that the ship’s deck guns were mostly unmanned, so he shrugged, ran over to one of them, strapped himself in, and begin laying down a curtain of firepower against the Japanese and his ship. This is a gun he had never shot nor been trained to shoot. At this point, our hero Dorie, the ship’s cook basically, has strapped himself into a .50 cal gun and is laying waste to countless Japanese fighters. His confirmed kill count varies from “a few” to “a dozen” depending on who you ask, but who cares. He unleashed hell on the bad guys and the only thing that stopped him was that he ran out of bullets and his ship’s dying Captain ordered him to abandon ship. Dorie survived the attack on Pearl Harbor, as did 1500 of his fellow crewmen from the USS West Virginia. He was awarded the Navy Cross from Admiral Nimitz himself, and was one of the first black men to ever receive one of the Navy’s highest awards. He didn’t retire, though. He continued working in the Mess hall, and served on the USS Indianapolis and the USS LIscome Bay, and kicked many Japanese asses all over the Pacific. He died on November 24, 1943 when his ship was hit by a torpedo. Since then, there are countless Boys & Girls Clubs named after him, he had a parade in his honor in Waco, he spoke at multiple graduation ceremonies, and even was put on a postage stamp. Oh, and did we mention that he was SUCH a badass that the Navy named a freaking destroyer in his honor and named it the USS Doris Miller? Here’s to you, Dorie. Bravery. Dedication. Humility. And one serious, serious badass guy.
WWW.HILLCOUNTRYEXPLORE.COM | NOVEMBER 2018
| 21
Priceless Moving YOUR Moving Company Complete Client Confidentiality Bonded and Insured Carefully moving Texans since 1984, our professional staff takes great pride in transporting your valuables and family treasures with great care. We value our reputation and credit our longevity to our consistency, reliability and trustworthiness.
“David and his team have been a great resource for us at the Clubs of Cordillera Ranch. We have used them frequently for our events, and we couldn’t be happier.” - Monty Becton
David Price - 830-816-3068 3 Ranger Creek Rd - PricelessMoving.com TXDOT # 006512375C
22 | EXPLORE
Unique gifts for mommy and baby MATERNITY | BABY | JEWELRY | BAGS (830) 816-5918
210 E. Blanco Rd. www.shopmommy2b.com shopmommy2b@gmail.com
Boerne, TX 78006
HISTORY
AUNTIE MARJ’S GUIDE TO SURVIVING THE HOLIDAYS By Marjorie Hagy
W
Well readers, can you believe it’s time for the holidays already? How did this possibly happen, what did we, enter a time warp or something? Here at HQ we haven’t even put away slip & slide! Of course, we still haven’t cleared up last year’s Thanksgiving paraphernalia either and there’s a stack of Dukakis yard signs behind the front door still pending a decision- time sure flies, doesn’t it? I know most of you are planning to spend a peaceful Thanksgiving laughing and feasting with family and friends, all of you gathered in joy and love in the spirit of the season. For the rest of us, all those families out there made up of sundry and various weirdos, the hillbilly cousin who farts at the dinner table and the aunt who says grace and says it so long you quietly put the devilled eggs back in the fridge, a great-grand
something who pulls quarters out of the kids’ ears and smells like Old Crow, all the the skeletons in the closet who like to come out and mingle with the guests- all the funky, flaky tribes who put the FUN in dysFUNctional! This little guide is for you.
24 | EXPLORE
(Disclaimer: This is a work of gibberish and dubious quality. Incidents happened somewhat as they are depicted and are products of the author's sketchy memory, and a may include a few outright lies because I’m past deadline and the editor is getting pushy about it. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is poorly executed but fully intended, unless it makes somebody mad in which case I don’t know what you’re talking about and I meant someone else, not you.) In those halcyon days of our youth, spending the High Holy Days with our extended clan was one of the things to which we looked forward all year, along with the last day of school and Christmas, which in those days took a lot longer to get here. For us kids the family holidays were like Norman Rockwell’s ‘Freedom from Want’ played out in real life, motes like gold dust afloat in a shaft of playful sunlight peeking through the lace curtains, fine china and sparkling crystal and everyone in their Sunday go-tomeetin’ clothes, Uncle Edgar leering into the camera with that look on his face that made people nervous and was apparently a deterrent to long-term employment, except for one brief stint when he traveled the deep south with a tent revival band, playing the triangle. Little could we imagine back then all the planning that had gone into that picture-perfect day, all the baking and basting, broiling and blanching and Apple Brown Bettying that’d been devoted to the creation of the bounteous feast! Little did we suspect that a mere few hours before the turkey hit the table Auntie Gladys smashed Nana’s best gravy boat on the kitchen floor and accused Aunt Jeanie of making out with her boyfriend under the grandstands at a football game in 1942. The point of this first hint is, always keep any hint of family disunity a dark, shameful secret from the children no matter how fervently you long to sink the carving knife into your neighbor’s thigh under the table as you all take turns saying what you’re thankful for. In fact, modern psychological testing has recently confirmed that witnessing one’s beloved grandmother tearing out clumps of her own hair while screaming, “O grave where is thy victory?!” has a detrimental effect on a child’s psyche, at least until they start serving the pie. Speaking of pie, this next section is for those on both ends of the spatula: At least TRY to be respectful of other people’s whiny, annoying food requirements, as well as all the unappetizing slop your host or hostess forces on you. This can be a tricky business during the holiday season and we can all use a few pointers to navigate safely. A good rule of thumb is to just mind your own business about other people’s dietary preferences, unless they insist on describing, at the dinner table, the exact nature of the intestinal tsunami that would surely ensue and send them screaming into the john should they be so rash as to eat even a SMIDGE of that green bean casserole, at which point you’re legally justified in shoving them out of their chair and smearing them with cranberry sauce. There are some boorish creatures who enjoy taunting vegans with pornographic depictions of bacon and steak; sometimes they form a pack and go after a herbivore like a bunch of spotted hyenas on a sickly gnu. If you feel tempted to engage in anti-veganism, the best advice I can
give you is to go sit in the kitchen by yourself for a while until you stop acting like an ass. What happens, in many cases, is that the besieged vegan will lash out with the only weapons at hand; they may plunk down beside you and gawp in horror at your giblet gravy and ask in incredulous horror if you actually eat organs, or stifle a cry when the spiral-cut ham is handed around, bite a knuckle and gasp “Babe?” in a broken whisper- is that what you want? Your own particular cross to bear might be Great Uncle Horace, a perennial dinner guest who’s begun to resemble a jack-o’-lantern three or four days after Hallowe’en, who’s been showing up at every holiday meal for so long that nobody has the nerve to ask him who exactly he’s related to; there's a strong suspicion that he’s not kin at all but that he just wandered into the house once back during the Depression and kept coming back when nobody called the police. This old man has been hating on youngsters since the term ‘whippersnapper’ was coined and nothing perks him up like some JD eating hippie food. One tactic to be avoided at all costs is to counter attack the old geezer with the food follies with which he himself dabbled back in his salad days, such as: “Oh yeah? Well at least I don’t eat Miracle Whip Spam loaf with green olive gelatin!” (which only becomes more awkward when you realize that’s exactly the covered dish he brought this year.) When during a lull in the dinner conversation Great Uncle Horace suddenly comes to and shouts, “Moses and them other Jews, you don’t see none of THEM askin’ God if the manna’s gluten-free!”, the family may be sore tempted to strangle en masse, but the most humane method for dealing with the old fart is to wait until he’s truly asleep, unconscious but not quite dead (which you should ascertain via a small mirror held under his nose), and then have a couple of the teenagers haul him to the closet under the back stairs, and when he emerges a day or so later, hand him back his teeth and a cup of mud to go, and gently but firmly shoo him off the porch. ♦ As to the food available at the feast, there’s not much you can do about that NOW, but you can offer to host next year and thereby take charge of the menu, but you take charge of all the other stuff too, like ironing the tablecloths and getting in extra chairs from the funeral home and anesthetizing your poodle whose instinctive reaction to the slightest external stimulus is to lose control of his bladder which, by the way, really does have a impressive capacity for a toy breed. Another idea is to plump for the covered dish option, although a fixture at every potluck has long been cousin Susan’s “famous” carrot-and-raisin salad, over which Susan hovers watchfully, making intense direct eye contact while spooning up heapin’ helpin’s onto every plate whether you want it or not. And since the dawn of mankind only seven people have ever actually WANTED carrot-and-raisin salad, and one of them didn’t so much want it as that it was one of only four foods his gastroenterologist would allow him to eat. By the way, I used to worry about hurting people’s feelings if I were to recoil from some loathsome dish in revulsion, with a visibly painful visceral reaction based on a primal sense of hatred and loathing, so I felt I had to accept everything that was thunked onto my plate. I’d then proceed to push it around, grinning
vacuously whenever it’s creator appeared to glance in my general direction, showing every one of my teeth in the style popularized by chimpanzee birthday card models, and bobbing my head up and down in a manic pantomime of delight, but the danger of that method is that the pity-grub may accidentally come into contact with the food you actually want to eat. Now that I’m older and wiser and have taken charge of my own life, I no longer resort to subterfuge, but instead whenever the offending dish is handed my way, I bravely fake a coughing attack until the danger has passed. Do NOT force kids to eat weird stuff! Now I’ve done my share of threatening, bribing, pleading, sobbing, and begging preschoolers into absorbing SOME nourishment other than Sour Patch Kids, but that’s not the point. THIS is what I mean: We’ll begin with this plain fact: I hate pumpkin pie. I always have, and dammit, I still do! I do not like it Sam I Am! Anyway, there exists a certain species of adult who seem to really like children, whose intentions are the best and kindest in the world- but who just don’t get it. These are the cheek-pinchers of the world, the dudes who do that shadow-boxing thing where they bob and weave and throw air punches, and sometimes they suddenly appear in your face and go, “I got your nose!” and show it to you to prove it, and there it is in their hand, all little and pink and pathetic. That freaked the me out, I mean, I was like two years old and I thought Winnie the Pooh was a real guy who lived down the street from my grandfather, what did I know? And was this kinda thing just OKAY with my parents? Seriously, they were just standing by smiling politely while this old bastard pulled parts off my FACE?? There were others too, those who coo, “Can I take you home? Can you come home with me and be my little girl?” Or, “Ooh I could just eat you up, yes I could, you just look good enough to eat!”- what the hell?? My entire worldview up to that point had been shaped by Hansel and Gretel and Little Red Riding Hood and all those other adorable children’s stories about kidnapping and cannibalism, so the possibility- nay the probabilitythat someone might whisk me away and then proceed to actually EAT me was a very real fear! Also these poor people, their breath was far more likely to smell like coffee and mothballs than people who just said Hi kid and ruffled your hair absentmindedly and then went back to ignoring you. Aunt Olivia, we’ll call her (that was her name after all, but in this case I’ve cleverly disguised her relation to me, to shake things up.) Anyway, “Aunt” Olivia (wink wink nudge nudge) was one of those people who unwittingly frightened children, and one of the ways this malady manifested itself in her was in forcing kids to do and eat and wear things they loathed. If she tumbled to the fact that you were terrified of swimming, say, she was likely to kind of jocularly bully you down to the deep end and try to jolly you into taking the plunge, and after a while she’d just shove you in anyway, accidentally on purpose, and after some fireman scraped you off the bottom of the pool
WWW.HILLCOUNTRYEXPLORE.COM | NOVEMBER 2018
| 25
They don’t make glasses of wine big enough for this.
Who is “The Man” Uncle Frank keeps screaming about?
and got your lungs started back up again (just before you walked into the beckoning glow at the end of the tunnel), Aunt Olivia would stand over you and call you silly and declare that the best thing to do was just to get back on that horse.
The pie was unspeakable. It was WAY more horrible than I’d ever expected and my expectations had been pretty low. But I kept at it, plowing my way through my ordeal, glancing up occasionally to smile weakly, until the Clean Plate Club would have no need to be ashamed of me.
So one year she ferreted out my aversion to pumpkin pie and it became her Thanksgiving Day project-slashfixation to make me eat some, and mine to avoid her, but she had the hawk-eyed instinct of the natural-born busybody on her side. She really WAS like Sam I Am, following me around on a boat and with a goat and with a...stoat, was it? At any rate I got through dinner safely, out of sight and out of mind at the card table in the den with the other urchins while the grown-ups yakked it up in the dining room, but afterwards, my senses dulled by tryptophan, I let my guard down for a moment and there she was like a duck on a June bug. “Aha!” she skriekedshe actually said AHA- and went off into cackles of evil delight. She hauled me bodily into the kitchen and shoved me into a chair in the manner of a hard-boiled detective manhandling the sick son of a bleep he’s been chasing ever since he first walked a beat, when he’s finally got him in the interrogation room. She could’ve produced a pillowcase full of bars of soap with which she planned to pummel me and I wouldn’t have felt more doomed, and I believe I would’ve preferred the beating.
People began filtering into the kitchen, kicking off the pie-eating portion of the competition, Hagys being a clan of prodigious overeaters who never waste too much of our time NOT eating something- and in the flurry of renewed activity I managed to ooze unnoticed out of my chair and under the door, and reassembled myself into human form once outside of the kitchen. It was then a piercing shriek rose from the kitchen, followed by the sounds of people gagging and spitting and howling for water. And above it all keened a high-pitched lament: “OLIVIA!! You musta used salt in the pie instead of sugar!”
There was no help for me, as the adults of the Hagy dynasty were draped over furniture all over the house like Dali’s watches only fatter, dozing in their post-gorge stupors, and no kid would voluntarily place themself within snatching range of this madwoman. Nobody was prowling the kitchen for dessert yet as they were all resting up for Round 2, the pie phase, and Olivia had me for herself, and proceeded to serve up a plateful of that accursed pie and slid it over to me, eyeing me with much the same expression the crone wore when Hansel et al were bingeing on the gingerbread siding of her house.
26 | EXPLORE
Which of course is exactly what had gone down. I’d had no clue what pumpkin pie was supposed to taste like, I just knew it’d be bad and it WAS bad. And that gentle reader was the first and last time I ever ate pumpkin pie. I’m just about recovered these days but occasionally when I see a jack-o’lantern unexpectedly I get a twitch in my eye that goes away only when I hold my breath for several minutes. The lessons to be gleaned from this shameful episode are, I believe: A- don’t make kids- or anyoneeat gross stuff they actually hate. Many people have gone on to live full and productive lives after surviving a childhood deprived of lima beans and pumpkin pie. Secondly: Even if every instinct within you cries out to get right in a kid’s face with your weird breath and sweetly threaten to abduct and/or cannibalize them, RESIST THE URGE. C- Who in the hell keeps salt on their kitchen counter in a canister?? Auntie Marj, what’s the best way to talk politics with my family at Thanksgiving dinner? While this is a thorny subject, I’ve actually devised a fail-proof solution, to wit:
say you’re seated at the feast table and Paw-Paw is handing around the plates of turkey, the carving of which has, over the years, shifted from a minor family ritual into an obsession with him. This sweet old guy who wears zip-up coveralls and makes wooden toys for the grandkids has become so involved in his zeal to sculpt the perfect turkey that he forgets to shave as the fourth Thursday in November approaches; Oma wakes in the night and he’s not in bed, she discovers him in the breakfast nook hunched over the laptop, drooling over salacious pictures of expensive knives and it’s escalating, he’s been dabbling in electric carvers lately. Beads of sweat stand out on his forehead now as he performs his delicate surgery, the kinfolk are digging into the potatoes and the first biscuit has been thrown over at the kid’s table and you think, ‘Ya know, that thing with the (budget/healthcare/nukes/space program/replacing the trumpet vine with honeysuckle in front of the Supreme Court building) is really bugging me, maybe my relatives with diametrically opposing political ideologies who aggressively despise everything I’ve ever believed in can help me understand just why in the name of everything holy those stupid, crooked morons they voted for could ever stoop so low?’ Yeah, I mean after all, who better to kick the ball of policy around with than your family, several members of which have referred to you, variously, as ‘satanic’, an ‘addle-pated pinhead’, and ‘that GD pinko commie with the unibrow who talks like Sylvester’, and that not forty minutes ago as they greeted you in the foyer when you first got to the party? Before your opening remarks though, in the interest of avoiding any arguments, hurt feelings, name-calling, escalating violence, shankings with weapons crudely but effectively fashioned out of plastic sporks and/or damage to the plaster in the dining room which Ruth and Virgil just had painted last Spring, try this one simple exercise: Simply excuse yourself from the gathering and walk calmly to the first bedroom on the right where they’ve put the coats and purses (Donna’s old room with the remains of her old homecoming mums still pinned to the wall next to a yellowing David Cassidy poster.) Once there, latch the door firmly, then retrieve the hammer you brought along for this exact contingency, and proceed to rap yourself on the head sharply enough that you drive the irresponsible and dangerously asinine notion of talking politics at this shindig right out of your
soul like an evil spirit. If when your ears stop ringing you still think it’s a great idea, just repeat the process until you’ve forgotten who the president is anyway, at which point you may return to the dining room and slowly work your way up to a vapid, inoffensive conversation, leading with a lighthearted observation on a non-controversial topic, but please keep in mind that there’s only one noncontroversial topic available right now and it’s dogs, and only if no one at the table is affiliated with PETA. Making fun of your mom’s food isn’t cool, but sometimes it’s hilarious and can end up becoming a new family tradition. My dad’s grandfather was a man named Fenimore, but my dad knew him as Foon, and for all I know that’s what everybody called him and it was a perfectly reasonable name for a man back then, like Elmer or Kermit or Jethro. I never knew Foon but his wife was my great-grandmother Mamo, whom I loved and adored and whom I still miss, even after thirty years. Mamo was quite a grande dame, fancy and glamorous with long, scarlet-colored nails who hobnobbed with The Quality at Joske’s and Frost Bros where she used to work as a dresser, but husband Foon was a somewhat more rural model. These two were married in the 1920s but Foon’s mother Ida May hated Mamo’s guts. Whatever bad feelings that gave rise to such hard feelings are long forgotten, but one incident has been etched into the family mythos and handed down the generations: the time Ida May threw an electric fan at Mamo. Back in those days an electric fan was nothing to sneeze at, with a base and motor the approximate tonnage of the Edmund Fitzgerald when she went down, and the blades whizzing along at lethal speed right out there in front of God and everyone, no sissified cages or grills to discourage the young ‘uns from sticking their melons into the centrifuge and beheading themselves. It was an era during which couples had twenty or thirty children and the odds were that some of them were bound to get sucked into a fan as a matter of course, so parents might simply warn their brood to “Git back away from that thing and if it cuts your hand off don’t come cryin’ to me!”, and when a little while later the fan actually DID cut someone’s hand off and hurl it violently across the room the parent would stand over the victim and say “What’d I tell you? Huh?”, to make doubly sure they learned their lesson, as if witnessing one’s siblings make shadow puppets on the farmhouse wall with one’s own personal disembodied hand might not be a sufficient reminder to be more careful going forward. Then Mother would toss over the dishrag from the waistband of her apron and tell the kid to go fetch his or her hand and stick it in the icebox and we’ll see if Dr Schlaginhauffen can do anything with it when he’s out here in a day or so to look at that thing growing out of Willajean’s head. So yeah, Ida May threw that kind of fan at Mamo WHILE it was plugged into the wall so that it must’ve hurtled toward Mamo like a rabid helicopter. Nobody alive can describe the physical fallout of the assault, but it was hell on Mamo and Foon’s marriage, in fact Mamo divorced him and they didn’t get married again until Ida May dropped dead. Foon reportedly customized his rattletrap car by removing the seats and replacing them with lawn chairs, possibly because the original interior had been eaten by goats or possibly it was a matter of preference. Ten to
meaning within the earshot of collateral relatives who were sure to return to their homes and report to everyone else that the San Antonio branch was crude and uncouth and sat around the holiday table talking about picking their asses, and some of them would throw in other juicy tidbits they’d picked up here and there, like how they had lawn chairs instead of seats in the car and how Foon had been spotted on more than one occasion blowing his nose with his fingers in a style that would eventually become known as a “gym teacher’s hankie”. The years rolled on, and the people around the table died, one by one: the people who made the aspic and handed it around the table, the people who picked their assand the ones who told sordid tales about the San Antonio branch, and the kids became the grown-ups and then the grandparents, and every year they’d repeat the story of Foon’s aspicking and laugh and laugh. So when our mom busted out a new recipe twenty or twenty-five years ago (my GOD, is that really how long it’s been?!), in the form of a fire engine red-colored gelatin mold, my sister and I, neither of us having ever clapped eyes on an authentic aspic whether domesticated or feral, at once instinctively recognized this as one of the species. It wasn’t one, but during the meal at which it made its debut, one of us offered the plate to the other, that first time, and posed the appropriate question: Would you like aspic? To which the other solemnly made reply: No thanks, I just picked mine yesterday. It was magic! This ritual has been repeated every year since, and has been handed down to the next generation, as all traditions should. I haven’t sat down to the holiday table with my sister in a couple of years. I miss that aspic.
twelve people would pile into that thing and roar off down the highway, everyone over the age of eight smoking unfiltered Camels, and of course the youngsters would all swarm out of the vehicle when they caught up to the DDT truck, and run to join their schoolfellows frolicking behind in the cool, refreshing mist of poison. Anyway one holiday a thousand years ago when a mixed bag of assorted kinfolk sat around the dinner table together, my grandmother, for whom I was named, passed a dish to Foon with the polite query: “Would you like some aspic Foon?” And according to legend, Foon replied, “No thank you, I just picked mine yesterday.” Well, my great-grandmother and my grandmother were scandalized of course, not so much by the language because they threw around much worse than that on the daily, but because he’d said it in ‘mixed company’,
So maybe go ahead and make fun of your mom’s food, because sometimes it can turn into something more than an inside joke, sometimes things can spread out and grow over the years and whenever you hear some dumb word that reminds you, you’ll think of your people and smile. But you should test the waters before you try this at home. Maybe read this story to your mom in order to gauge her feelings, and if she draws herself up stiffly and gasps, Those disrespectful hussies! scrap the project immediately, but if she laughs and says What a great idea! then tells you the story about one of her own family weirdos - hang onto that. Mend your fences if you can, and hold your people close, and if you can’t hold them right now for whatever reason, keep them in your heart, and keep on working your way back to a place of love. I miss those weirdos, and I long for the next time I can look my sister in the eye and say: No thanks, I just picked mine yesterday. That’s the good stuff- not the aspic so much (that’s actually pretty gross), but the love and the laughter and the particular brand of dysfunction you’ve built within your own weird tribe. Be grateful. BE the love. And may your aspic be unbroken, by and by Lord, by and by. And a happy, joyous Thanksgiving to you and your crazy family.
WWW.HILLCOUNTRYEXPLORE.COM | NOVEMBER 2018
| 27
LOVE YOUR WATER! Have the Healthiest, Cleanest, Freshest, Water in the Neighborhood!
FREE Trial Offer
Try a Kinetico Water System on us for up to 30 days and experience the Kinetico difference!
830-443-4702 KineticoSA.com
SPIRITUAL
NO F***ING GOOD By Kendall D. Aaron
One of my all time favorite movies is “Scent of a Woman”, starring Al Pacino as a blind veteran that lost his eyesight when he was drunk and start fooling around with a hand grenade. Since his accident, he basically spends the majority of his time sitting in his daughter’s guest house on her property sucking down “John Daniels” (”He’s Jack to you. When you’ve known him as long as I have…”) and barking insults at most anyone that is unlucky enough to cross his path. For the movie, he hires a young helper to take him to New York where he splurges on fine dining, fine women, and indulges in everything he’s ever wanted. He finally visits his estranged brother, and after making a complete mess of their Thanksgiving dinner due to his boozing and inappropriate stories, his brother stops him and Pacino says “I’m no f****ing good…and I never have been.”
O
Having gotten this off his chest, our hero goes home (and I won’t ruin it for you) but decides to blast his brains out while in his dress blues across his expensive room at the Waldorf Astoria. You’ll have to watch the movie to watch the rest. (Which, by the way, is an AMAZING movie that will make you smile for weeks). I’ve been watching this movie at least once or twice a year since it came out in the mid ‘90s. For many many years I wasn’t exactly sure why I liked it so much and chalked it up to just some amazing writing and acting and one helluva story. The older I get, I am more retrospective about it, and find some very deep parallels about the urgency and depression that befall those that feel that they are no f***ing good anymore. I’m one of them. And if you are honest, so are you. If you don’t think you’re no f***ing good, quit reading now and resume looking down at everyone at church that doesn’t drop their offering in the collection plate each week. I’m sorry for my use of “f***ing”…but it’s just one of the most pivotal lines of the movie and it truly and succinctly and purposefully lays out exactly how our hero feels about himself. I mean, he couldn’t say “I’m not a nice guy” or “I just drink too much”….he HAD to say “I’m no f***ing good and I never have been” for us to get the full breadth of his emptiness.
You are NO good, and you never have been. It’s a fact. Like it or not, God Himself said it countless times in the Bible. Even some of the most badass guys in the Bible that tore armies apart for God and crusaded for Christ’s Kingdom were some of the biggest dirtbags to ever live. Heck, the 12 disciples were 12 scalawags that Christ recruited on purpose because…they were no good. If you classify yourself as a PERSON, then you are a decrepit, sinful, lying, cheating, mess of a human being…and you always have been. I’m smiling as I type this because I know that so many of you out there just raised your eyebrows and said “Who the heck is THIS guy?” Look, I’m just being honest and trust me, I’m applying the same to myself. Brennan Manning in the “Ragamuffin Gospel” said, ““Genuine self-acceptance is not derived from the power of positive thinking, mind games or pop psychology. IT IS AN ACT OF FAITH in the God of grace.” Read that at least five times. Your self-acceptance is not due to your meditating and encouraging yourself on why you are a good person, or how your intentions are good, or why you pray every day, or any other virtuous characteristic you might profess. Your self-acceptance is only healthy when it begins with “I’m no good” and ends with “…but God’s grace saved me.” That’s the one thing that Al Pacino didn’t understand in the movie – no matter how bad he saw himself, God still loved him and he was forgiven if he would simply accept it. And just the same as it’s true for Pacino, it’s true for you and I. But step one is to climb down off that enormous horse you find yourself, and say “Well, maybe I’m not as good as I thought.” Then when you really unpack the depths of your depravity which surely will only be shared and known between you and God, you might say “Well, it’s pretty clear – I’m no f***ing good and I never have been.” When you finally reach that level of honesty, move into the grace that God showers upon you. That grace which you don’t want to accept because you don’t think you NEED it. But when you realize you NEED it, then you don’t think you DESERVE it. And then when you realize that God agrees with you that you don’t deserve it, yet He offers it anyway, then perhaps you’ll be able to bring this whole thing home with a recognition that we are ALL a mess, and not one of us deserves the grace that God gives us. But no matter how “no good” we are, God is still there with His hand out ready to save you from yourself and provide you an umbrella from the depression and the sadness that you absolutely DESERVE to experience.
Having watched the movie more times than I could ever count, I’ve made others watch it with me over the years. They will surely say “That was a good movie!” but I can tell that they don’t get my fascination with it. I don’t get the fascination, either. I suppose I’m just drawn to the raw honesty and desperation of the story and, sometimes, like right now, I can find a spiritual parallel and smirk with satisfaction that even through Pacino’s vile language and constant boozing, God can still talk to me.
Our friend Pacino didn’t know this truth, so he wallowed in his own misery. Had he known, despite his ugliness with his life, he would have understood that God was still there showering him with grace and finishing his sentence with”…and God’s grace saved me.”
Let me say this: The sooner you can say “I’m no good and I never have been”…the closer you are to where you need to be. If you gasp and say “But I’m a good person” or “I try my best” or “What? I’m a deacon at church!” then you are worse than I, and I’m telling you I’m no damn good. Guess what that makes you.
Love you all.
30 | EXPLORE
I’m a mess. Hope you’ll join me in admitting this. It’s liberating, I promise. It makes grace all the more profound, important, and astonishing.
Opening December 2018
Where Beer and History Come Together! The perfect union of great beer & food
32 | EXPLORE
WWW.HILLCOUNTRYEXPLORE.COM | NOVEMBER 2018
| 33
Keep Calm and let the Aussies handle it! And handle it they will! The Ten Tenors welcome you “Home for the Holidays” with their generous mix of festive favorites and modern holiday hits. Walk through this winter wonderland that truly captures the essence of Christmas for the whole family. Joy to the World…The TEN Tenors return to Boerne on December 15, 2018, for a one-night only performance! This is a special event and is a separate ticket from the 2019 season.
KEEPING CALM By Sue Talford
Keep Calm and Carry On… a motivational poster produced by the British government in 1939 in preparation for World War II…has been adopted by Boerne Performing Arts as a motivational slogan in preparation for their 2019 Season! Another popular World War II poster in America…We Can Do It…has also become a motto for Boerne Performing Arts. This all-volunteer organization continues to “do it”… bringing world-class professional performing arts organizations to the Texas Hill Country for their eighth season!
K
34 | EXPLORE
Keep Calm and Dance On…as Boerne Performing Arts’ 2019 Season literally “kicks” off. On February 22, 2019, the Trinity Irish Dance Company will dazzle their way into town with their hard-driving percussive foot action, lightning-fast agility and aerial grace. A prelude to St. Patrick’s Day, this “totally winning, witty and sassy” show (New York Post) will entertain your family with traditional Irish Dancing and music…being Everything you expect, but like nothing you’d imagine!
Keep Calm and Strum On…with Boerne Performing Arts’ first group direct from Great Britain! From the chart-topping renditions of such western hits as “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly” to pop music guru Elton John’s “Pinball Wizard”, the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain is just plain entertaining! A concert by The Ukulele Orchestra is funny, virtuosic, twanging, awesome, and foot-stomping. Featuring the “bonsai guitar”, a menagerie of voices, and brilliant British humour, the Ukes performs regularly to sell-out audiences at Royal Albert Hall in London (that’s over 5,000 indoor seats, and another 10,000 listening outside in Hyde Park), their performance in Boerne is sandwiched between performances in Santa Fe and San Diego. Considered a national institution in the UK, this all-singing, allstrumming ensemble will perform in Boerne on March 26, 2019…a night of hilarity!
I Can’t Keep Calm because We’re Swinging! After 25 years, 11 records, over 2800 live shows, and countless appearances in film and television, the Big Bad Voodoo Daddy band will make their first ever appearance in Boerne, Texas! Do they perform big shows, did you ask? What would you say about the Superbowl Halftime Show with Steve Wonder, Gloria Estefan and Savion Glover? Big Bad Voodoo Daddy’s horn-infused music and legendary high energy show introduces swing to all generations. It is cool to swing and April 5, 2019, should have folks dancin’ in the aisles as Boerne Performing Arts’ eighth season draws to a close!
So Keep Calm and Carry On with a ticket to a Boerne Performing Arts’ event. You will “keep calm” by driving in Boerne (instead of having to drive to San Antonio or Austin to see this quality of a show) and you will be able to “carry on” with your obligations after having a night out on the town. Keeping even calmer? There are no parking fees at the venue. Working on your Christmas List? Tickets to Boerne Performing Arts events make holiday shopping simple. You can select your seat, select your show, and print your tickets without stepping outside. Then, wrap them up or use them as a stocking stuffer…either way you are spreading the holiday joy well into the 2019! All shows begin at 7:30pm at Boerne Champion Auditorium (201 Charger Blvd). Single tickets ($20-$60) and season tickets for the 3-concert 2019 shows ($50-$170) are available online at: www.BoernePerformingArts.com, by phone (830-331-9079), or in person at the Boerne Chamber of Commerce (121 S. Main Street).
WWW.HILLCOUNTRYEXPLORE.COM | NOVEMBER 2018
| 35
COMPREHENSIVE EYE EXAMINATIONS EYE CARE DIAGNOSIS AND TREATMENT Jennifer Johnson has dreamed of becoming an optometrist since she was in middle school, and through hard work and determination, she made her dream come true.
Jennifer L. Johnson, OD, FAAO Therapeutic Optometrist Optometric Glaucoma Specialist
Jennifer Jeanes
Eye Care Technician
personal relationships with members of the community. While working as part of the Boerne Vision Center team, she began participating in, and graduated from, “Leadership Boerne,” which is sponsored by the Boerne Chamber of Commerce. In addition, she joined the Board of the Rainbow Senior Center at the Kronkosky Place in 2012 and was named Boerne Business Woman of the year in 2015.
At the young age of four, Jennifer was diagnosed with accommodative esotropia and hyperopia, and was prescribed her first pair of eyeglasses and began engaging After more than 17 years of practicing optometry and in vision therapy. It was during this phase of her life that gaining experience in various areas of eye and vision she was introduced to a whole new visual world, and care, under the supervision of talented mentors and began developing her passion for optometry. experienced optometry professionals, Jennifer decided it Jennifer attended Stephen F. Austin State University (SFA), was time to realize her dream of owning and operating her own practice. After consulting God through prayer, and where she successfully completed the pre-professional her family, in August of 2017, Jennifer Johnson founded program in 1996. During her time at SFA, she worked as Johnson Eye Care in Boerne, Texas. an optometric technician for four years, which is where she learned all aspects of running an optometry practice. Upon graduating from SFA, she was accepted to Southern In addition to serving the Fair Oaks and Boerne community as a talented optometrist, Jennifer is also College of Optometry (SCO), in Memphis, Tennessee, married to Dr. Michael Johnson, who was also her high where she graduated with honors in 2000. She then moved to San Antonio and started practicing on the south school sweetheart. Together, they have two amazing daughters, Cate and Grace. The Johnson family lives in side of town in a multi-specialty eye clinic. the Fair Oaks Ranch community, where they are active members of First United Methodist Church of Boerne, and Missing her small-town roots and dreaming of practicing serve the community through various ministries. Cate and within a familiar, close knit community, she and her family moved to Boerne, Texas in 2009. In 2011, Jennifer joined the Grace enjoy participating in many of the weekly children’s and youth programs at their church. staff at Boerne Vision Center, where she established close
Channing Siebels
BEST OF THE BEST IN BOERNE
Receptionist
1375 South Main Ste. 202 (next to Dietz-McLean Optical) :: phone: 830-428-0901 :: fax: 830-331-4100
HOURS
Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday 8:00 a.m. - 5:00 p.m. Wednesday 9:00 a.m. - 6:00 p.m. :: Friday 8:00 a.m. - 3:00 p.m.
www.johnsoneyes.com
FIRE IT UP
GOURMET
PIZZA
CRAFT BEER & WINE SANDWICHES * SALADS
A FAMILY RESTAURANT WHERE CRAFT BEER & WINE MEET CRAFT PIZZA IJK
118 Old San Antonio RD. * Boerne TX * 830.331.1212 W e d n es d a y - S und a y 1 1: 00 a .m . - 9 : 30 p .m . 36 | EXPLORE
• Ken Nietenhoefer •
Premier Custom Home Builder in the Texas Hill Country For over 40 years, KCN has been building beautiful custom homes of all sizes in Boerne, Comfort, Bandera, Pipe Creek and throughout the Texas Hill Country. Our reputation for honesty and integrity, combined with our commitment to deliver excellent quality, expert craftsmanship, and customer service, has afforded us the opportunity to build many long lasting relationships with our clients. In fact, we have constructed two or more jobs for 32 different customers.
830-816-5202 920 East Blanco Road Boerne, TX 78006 www.kcnbuilders.com
Gentle, Caring, Family Practice, Courteous Professional Staff • State of the Art Procedures & Techniques
WE’ VE RECENTLY E XPANDED George E. Metz III, DDS • Michael Hoeppner, DDS
830-229-5581
Gentle, Caring, Family Practice, Courteous Professional Staff State of the Art Procedures & Techniques
NowRaccepting appointments for Kevin Beitchman, DDS, MS - Orthodontist WE’ VE ECENTLY E X PA N DED George E. Metz III, DDS • Michael Hoeppner, DDS
Kendall Woods Dental 830-229-5581
25 FM 3351 South Boerne, Texas 78006
Now accepting appointments for Kevin Beitchman, DDS, MS - Orthodontist
Kendall Woods Dental
WWW.HILLCOUNTRYEXPLORE.COM | NOVEMBER 2018
| 37
OLD TIMER
W
We’re going to talk about one of the most controversial topics in all of Boerne. One that separates people, has led to gunfights, and has almost torn the entire town apart. Gateway Loop? Growth? $chultz’s beard? Nah. We’re going to talk about the River Road Park and Old Timer’s demands for how to fix things up.
I see your silly photos on Facebook about how quaint and adorable it is that traffic snarles to a stop every time a line of ducks crosses the road. (That’s right, I’m on Facebook too). You all snap photos, smile at how cute they are, and carry on and on about it. Here’s the problem: they are evil, evil birds hell-bent on the complete invasion and ultimate conquering of our town. But they are but one reason that our River Road Park area is constantly requiring work, and as such, I have sat down…whiskey in hand…and am ready to remedy the issues of this area in the way that only I can do. Here we go. THE DUCKS JUST HAVE TO GO. That’s it. They’re gone. They have to go. I know that you think they’re adorable, and taking the kids down there to feed them is just great fun, but let’s be honest, they are responsible for a ridiculous amount of destruction to the area. First of all, they shit on everything. EVERYTHING. You don’t see it too much because the City pays some guy to go down there multiple times per week and spray everything down to get it off the sidewalks and tables. But while you’re enjoying your Kelani Yogurt while sitting at the concrete picnic table, just know that they JUST blasted duck shit off your table. Secondly, somebody is going to get killed one of these days when one of those possessed birds goes hauling ass across River Road, causing a soccer mom in a Ranger Rover to hammer her brakes, causing some poor schlub on a motorcycle to plant his face in her back windshield. To die for a duck – can there be a worse way to go? I propose an annual head-count of the ducks. Anything over 20 ducks and they start blasting. Yes, you PETA folks will freak out, but you can assume how I feel about your feelings. THAT DAMN RIVER IS GROSS The good folks down at the Cibolo Nature Center do their thing, which is monitoring the river, and do so by checking the water frequently upside of the dam (which is River Park). Know what they typically find in high levels? E. Coli. Cool, huh? Know where it comes from? Read #1 above. Outside of the infectious nastiness of the river, the thought of ever getting near that water gives me chill bumps. I can only imagine the spaghetti mess of hooks and fishing lines that criss cross the whole of it. And the trash. The 10,000 turtles. YUCK. The River needs to be drained annually and cleaned. Haul off the shit that blows in from the road, clean up the fishing equipment, and whatever sort of madness they find in there. Some of you fellow Old Timers will remember that they drained the river in ’88 and found a VW bug in there. I’m serious. Then who can forget in ’11 when it was drained accidentally by the TxDot employee that was supposed to open the release valve to clear the water from under the
38 | EXPLORE
bridge, but then fell asleep. Ah, good times. Each winter they should drain that sucker, clean it and ready it for spring rains to refill it. We know it only takes one good rain to return all the water. It would be ugly to look at while it’s empty, but I’d much rather know that it’s clean than “pretty”. WE SHOULD DO MORE FUN STUFF WITH THE RIVER. When we have Berges Fest (which SHOULD be at Town Square but that’s another topic) we should have canoe races or innertube races. Because we would have a clean river without a nasty overpopulation of ducks, it would be great fun to hoist a Dodging Duck beer and cheer on our friends while they did a race from the bridge to the dam in a canoe. Talk about “quaint” old-timey fun!! This is but one silly idea, but I’m sure that there are uses for the River that could be used to drive awareness to the River, put it to use, and get the community involved in its use in a fun way. CAN I SHOOT THE TURTLES? At last count (according to Old Timer and 2 beers while sitting at a picnic table) there are approximately 27,953 turtles in the 200 yards of the river that make up the park.
Turtles, for those that were unaware, are evil, EVIL little demons that do little but eat your bait and eat the fish. They’re nasty little buggers. My gramps and I used to sit on the grass on the River back in the ‘40s with a BB gun and pop those little bastards when they’d come up for air. Would the City PLEASE give me a permit to go sit down there with a .22 and clean a little house? Better yet, make it another game for Berges Fest – “Who can shoot more turtles in an hour?!” – winner gets beers from the Duck and the City gets rid of those vile little monsters. SKINNY DIPPING DAY Because we now have a clean river, removed all the trash, killed the turtles, controlled the duck population and basically made the whole place less toxic, I propose a huge money maker for the City that would drive news stations from all over the place to come shine a spotlight on the City: Boerne’s Annual Skinny Dipping Day. For a $5 entry fee, we queue up all the freaks that wanna strip naked and jump in the river. Countless people would show up to gawk, lots of hippies would sign up, the Dodging Duck and Salvador would sell 20m bottles of beer, and everyone would have a laugh. Good idea? Probably not. Would it make me laugh? You better believe it. Sometimes this town needs to learn how to stop taking itself so damned seriously.
Note: Listen up class. This is NOT a duck. This is an Egyptian Goose. An invasive species originally from the southern part of the Sahara desert and Nile river. Like Hitler, they’ve taken over in Europe and have their sights set on the US of A. Even in their native country they’re considered a pest. Get that? The people where they are originally from don’t even like them. So why the hell do you keep feeding them bread and stale tortillas?
Host your next wedding, corporate event, family reunion, or birthday in the beautiful hill country. Open Air Pavilion & Saloon For Events | Daily & Weekly Cabin Rentals | Live Music
Cabins equipped with 1 bedroom, kitchenette & loft Cabins On Event Venue Site BBQ Pits
6005 W. Ammann Road Boerne, TX 78163 830-336-4223 www.stargazer-ranch.com
10 minutes to boerne | 20 minutes to IH 10 | 15 minutes to Bulverde | Minutes to Fair Oaks Ranch