If You Knew South Texas
A drive from San Antonio into the tiny towns of South Texas means passing miles and miles of stark, stuck-in-time landscape, replete with tumbleweeds and cacti. Dead armadillos are a given. Ditto deer heads at your local rest stop. My late mother was a fifth-grade teacher from Alice, Texas, about 45 minutes west of Corpus, two and a half hours southwest of San Antonio. Although I know the names Violet, Three Rivers, Robstown and Kingsville intimately, I had not heard the name Uvalde until the tragedy the other day. But that didn’t stop me from living the experience as I would have in Alice, when as an eight year-old I was ruminating in a summer school math class, miserable, missing my dad; or when I was a four year-old running from bats on Northwood Street or being pulled in the red wagon by next-door neighbor Mickey Hans. I had also lived with my grandparents Mama Sue and Pop, and "Unkie" Norman for the summer I turned one, while my parents visited my paternal relativ