November 1, 2016 (Tuesday)
Today, November 1, is a special day for my family and me, because it was on this day in 1964 that we began our life in Rockport, Texas, U.S.A.
Rockport has grown and changed during these 52 years. But some things persist, like the sculpted Live Oak trees and the beautiful bays.
Like the community, the churches have grown and there are more of them. Some of the old churches now occupy newer buildings. And a host of people who have worshiped in the buildings–old and new–have gone to be with the Lord.
One thing about this time period here is curious. There have been no major storms at Rockport since 1970–46 years. Surely that must be a record. Before we got here, there was Carla, and less than 3 years after our arrival, Beulah came. Then there was Celia. After that, there have been threats, near misses and soft blows, but nothing as destructive as those monsters. If hurricanes are your thing, take heart–they will come. We just don’t know when.We much prefer to think about “those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer.” “When the livin’ is easy.” Winter isn’t bad, either. Thousands of people from northern climes make it to South Texas every year, and many of them come to stay. As one of them said to me one day when it was raining hard during the winter, “at least we don’t have to shovel rain.”
I used to fish, but gave up some years ago. I’m not sure why. But people were always bringing us fish, shrimp and oysters, so we had plenty of seafood to eat anyway. Guess I just got lazy. A friend advised me to sell my fishing gear as antiques.
I was 33 when I moved here. I’m 85 now. I think I’ll settle down here. I like it.
