It was a case of mistaken identity. I thought I was Wendish, a descendant of that group of Eastern Europeans who fled religious oppression by the Prussian government in the 1850s.
She was my last purchase of the day, though to say I bought her makes the whole thing sound tawdry and cheap. But this was a cash transaction. Money changed hands. She was mine for the average price of a movie ticket.
The flea-market phenomenon known as Canton’s First Monday Trade Days dates to the 1850s, when traders brought dry goods , produce, and livestock to sell on the courthouse square.
I step out of the jewelry store into the sun, quite pleased with my new purchase—a pair of silver teardrop earrings that now dangle delicately from my earlobes. My new, one-of-a-kind earrings had set me back only $40, and best of all, they were handcrafted out of sterling silver by a passionate local artisan.
Wherever I travel, I seek out independent bookstores. They help define a city’s character for me. That said, I don’t collect books. I don’t seek out first editions, limited-edition autographed copies, or obscure European folios. I buy books simply to read them, and I love reading more than almost any other activity in the world.
The same thing happens every year, usually the weekend after Thanksgiving: We unfurl the Christmas lights, unearth our box of ornaments from the garage, begin unwrapping decorations—and a flood of memories washes in. Each piece has a story. There are the Texas-themed ornaments we bought in Gruene several years ago—a Texaco gas pump, an armadillo in a stocking cap, and various El Día de los Muertos skeletons. A construction-paper heart lacquered with glitter that suspends a photo of our daughter, then 2, now 6. Then there’s the vintage-style pretzel ornament purchased after pancakes along San Antonio’s glittering River Walk.
Elizabeth Jordon, a longtime buyer at BookPeople, recommends these titles as 10 books every Texan should read.
My parents went to the Texas Centennial Exposition, and all they brought me were these six miniature Centennial stamps. Not that I’m upset: Artifacts and images relating to Texas’ 100th birthday celebration, held in Dallas in 1936, make a great starting point for learning about Texas history.
The first day of autumn officially falls in September each year, but to me, the final days of October really herald the changing season. With the sun’s rays striking the earth at a shallower angle, the light softens and dapples the landscape with a honeyed glow. And for some reason, I think of new beginnings, friends and family members who have passed on, and the mysterious quickening of time.
I'll have a bottle of Crazy Water, please.” Well, actually, I’ve already got one. Mine looks to be from about the 1940s. But I’d really like to find a much older one, like the corked medicinal bottles that were sold in the 1880s, not too long after the water at Mineral Wells was found to have some rather unusual qualities.