Wait, where?
Pearsall, Texas, y’all. It’s my hometown. And it also happens to be the hometown of the king of country music: George Strait. In fact, his dad, Mr. Strait, was my brother’s math teacher. My grandmother, a little Mexican lady who didn’t speak English, was so proud of this native son that she kept a life-size, cardboard cut-out of George Strait in her living room.
Even though some pretty amazing people came out of Pearsall, it’s a very small town. When I was little, people didn’t lock their front doors and you only needed to dial 4 digits to call someone on the telephone. But I wasn’t born in Pearsall. I was born in Castroville, Texas and my brother was born in Dilley, Texas. Because in the late 60’s and probably for most of the 70’s, there was only one doctor in the vicinity, so pregnant ladies had to get themselves to wherever he was when they went into labor.
As kids growing up, we ran pretty wild: shooting off bottle rockets at anything that moved, driving all over town as soon as we could reach the gas pedal, and terrorizing the birds with our BB guns. In the summertime, after my parents divorced, we were virtually unsupervised. My aunts had to pay me to shower. And we drank so much soda, I’m surprised we have teeth. My dad, bless his heart, didn’t know what to do with us. Not to mention, he worked really long hours as a farmer. And my grandmother was outnumbered. She had 14 kids which resulted in too many grandkids to count …..or watch.
However, my grandma did feed us. And she was an amazing cook! George Strait can attest to that. He, too, enjoyed her cooking, as did many other musicians who passed through Pearsall performing at The Wishing Well (Pearsall’s dance hall). My grandma would feed anyone who walked in the door, almost before they sat down. She was a talented cook, a generous cook, and a patron of the arts.
I wish I could describe the Mexican food of my childhood. I wish I could taste it again. It’s not available in a restaurant. It’s not available anywhere, anymore. My grandma made homemade tortillas every single day, beans from scratch, fresh salsa in the molcajete. She kept a huge chicken coop in the back. All day, every day something simmered on the stove (often chicken). It was slow, home-all-day cooking. Forks? Never. We tore off pieces of tortilla to pinch the food. Sweet tea for the grown-ups, Kool-Aid for the kids.
But, no one cooks like that anymore, not even my aunts. That food belongs to a lost generation. And all I know how to make is sweet tea and Kool-Aid.
I miss the food, but mostly, I miss the people. And, like all Texans, I’m proud of where I come from.
Meet Great Grandma Lorenza. Don’t be deceived by her small stature. She had 21 to 25 kids (It’s disputed.) But, we do know that only 12 of her children lived to adulthood.
She may have been small, but she was a very strong woman …in many ways.
Pearsall; where do you start? Paula had scarlet fever in Pearsall, Michael had a backwards Mohawk (bald down the center of his head) which the doctor said was from nerves, Scott was sat on by his birthday horse, and he killed a deer that my visiting brother couldn’t finish off! Paula’s grandmother Guadalupe Elizondo was the sweetest kindest most thoughtful person I have ever known. Pearsall was where I learned the true meaning of the word love. My children learned the meaning of the word work there also. Scott and Michael would work long hot days in the watermelon fields and Paula was the secretary at the watermelon shed. Although she got upset when her father brought in a grown woman for the job. The workers at the shed made Paula a wooden name plate for her desk. Scott, Michael, and Paula were little wild Indians!
Even though prejudice was quite prevalent in that small Texas town, it was a good place to raise children.
Scott was the only one born in California, but still considers himself a Texan. Pearsall has a special place in all of our hearts! It still feels like home.