“Available for a quick drone flight?” the text flashed across my iPhone as I had dropped off one son on Thompson Drive for a meeting. Joe Herring Jr. said he was “across the creek from Gibson’s on Lemos in a vacant lot.”
“I’ll be right over!” I text-exclaimed. I told my youngest son, aged 14, who was still with me in the car, “You’re in for a treat.”
We drove to meet Joe, but not before I pulled off Lemos too early, on the west side of the Guadalupe, thinking the “creek” was another word for the river where it gets narrow. Or what a native Kerrvillian calls the Guadalupe. Or, or, or.
Oh, hell, I simply got it wrong.
He explained exactly where he was to the gentleman from the city where people generally only need to know how to count up to 100 to determine what street they’re on and know that avenues run north-and-south. I come from LegoLand. Everything’s on a grid.
I had asked Joe for a drone flight near Gibson’s so I could get an overhead shot of the store. I don’t know why I have such a fascination with the place…perhaps it’s so foreign to a big city like New York. The only places similar to it would be the discount odd-lot places on Broadway in the 100s or up in Inwood, except you would’t find Bowie knives, Gloks, or deer corn. I mean, Gibson’s has everything.And, if I’m candid, I’m throwing myself into understanding this new place–like a cat sniffs around the crooks and crannies of a new home–so that I acclimate and contextualize. I don’t miss New York as much as I thought I would, and I think it’s in large part due to my interest in the things I can find only in Kerrville. (Like Whataburger open at 2:45am after the vent-a-hood cleaning job!) Like football on Friday nights (I saw a game last October–amazing).
I do miss bagels and pizza. And I do wish that the city would make better use of its riverfront, maybe some rooftop bars or restaurants. Right now, Starbucks on Junction Highway is the best view of the sunset.
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