The Wonders of a Big City

Everything is completely relative. During my early childhood, I grew up in a town that you could literally walk across without the need to pack a lunch for the trip. We lived on the east side of the tracks but I could never find anyone who could tell me which one was the wrong side. Virtually all of the neighborhoods were mixed with the rich, the poor, and the middle class. Likewise, there was almost an equal division between those of Hispanic heritage and anglos. In our earlier years, we did not notice the difference between the various people, that would be learned later.

We seemed to have an obsession with two’s in my hometown. We had two stop lights, two movie theaters, two bars, two buildings with elevators, two major highways, and two elementary schools. As time went by some of those would be reduced to one but once a building had established a name, it remained attached to it forever. For example, the Bronco Movie Theatre has had many occupants but they are all in the Bronco building. The significance of this is that when we would travel to what seemed to be the biggest city in the world, Amarillo, Texas, everything was blown out of proportion. Typically upon arrival in Amarillo, we would drop in for a surprise visit with Uncle Clyde and Aunt Bonnie. Since they had created the concept of hoarding, we would only stand in their living room for about 15 minutes before we politely excused ourselves for the next stop. More often than not we would go to the downtown area of Amarillo. Since this was before parking garages had been introduced, we had to be prepared to be back by the car at least every two hours so that we could feed the parking meter. Likewise, there were buildings that were unbelievably tall. In fact, they made the Farmers and Stockmens Bank building look like a single story structure. One of the consequences of combining tall buildings and Texas panhandle winds was a series of embarrassing moments for the women and inexpensive entertainment for the men. Once we hit the downtown, the men (Dad and I) and the women (Mom and Linda) would part company with an agreement to meet back at the Woolworths at noon. The women would window shop and make note of the latest fashions so Mom could sew Linda’s wardrobe. The men would search for the best hat deal for Dad. Since the Herzstein Department Store burned down, Dad was only satisfied with hats from the Amarillo haberdashers. A note worth making. If Linda or I wanted to get anything from Amarillo, it was to be paid for with our money. Our parents consistently gave us an allowance and we worked. Gifts were given on Christmas and on our birthdays. If we wanted anything else, it was our responsibility to find a way to get it.

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of visiting Amarillo was the fact that you could see people who would seem completely foreign in Clayton. First, there was a blind Black man who played the saxophone on the sidewalks around the downtown area. He had a tin cup attached to his sax and Dad would always drop a few coins in his cup.  Likewise, when we would eat lunch at the same location every time, deaf-mutes would come by our table and put a card down on the table with the hand signs for sign language. They would take their cards to each table and then circle back around and accepted any donations. If you didn’t wish to make a donation they would take the card back. To my knowledge, we did not have people who consistently and openly sought donations on the streets in Clayton. I can not classify the people in Amarillo as beggars because they offered something of value in return for your donation. In our area of the country direct and open begging had not been introduced to the landscape.

You could tell that the trip to Amarillo was drawing to a close when we would head out on NW 10th to Wolflin Village. It was Amarillo’s first experiment in mall shopping except it was a series shops with exterior entrances. After Wolflin Village we would go across the street to a hamburger vendor that was the shape of a big cracker barrel. They had, with the exception of my Mother, the best hamburgers on earth. Then the two and half hour trip to small-town America would begin with two kids sound asleep in the back seat.