Looking from the outside in





Mary Henkel Judson is co-publisher and editor of the South Jetty.

Mary Henkel Judson is co-publisher and editor of the South Jetty.

Port Aransas has changed – a lot – since we made it our fulltime home in May of 1983. I loved it then and I love it now, even with the changes.

Sometimes we get so caught up in trying to keep Port Aransas what it was in the 1950s, or ’60s or ’70s, or even the ’80s, we forget that some things never change.

It takes an outsider, sometimes, with “fresh” eyes to remind us that we are what we are, to paraphrase Popeye.

The publisher of the Free Press that serves Kyle and Buda, Cyndy Slovak-Barton sent me something real interesting the other day. Cyndy’s cool. She’s kind of hippie-like. Doesn’t wear much makeup, and she’s real pretty without it. She wears cowboy boots and jeans, and she’s outspoken in a lady-like sort of way. I don’t think she’s scared of much of anything, and she’s not scary to Bush-type Republicans or Hillary-Democrats because she listens to them and everyone in between. So I listen to her.

Cyndy sent me a piece written by her husband’s cousin, Clint Younts who lives in Old Mountain City between Kyle and Buda. She thinks her cousin-in-law, a veterinarian by profession, should take up writing as a sideline. She pays him in Mexican beer for his occasional offerings. I offered to pay into her beer fund if she’d let me run what she sent me.

For those who don’t know, Kyle and Buda are between San Marcos and Austin, in an area that has seen growth more rapid than we in Port Aransas can imagine.

Here’s what Clint had to say. . . .

It seems every time I go to Buda or Kyle, I see another building going up. Restaurants, retail stores, and banks are popping up everywhere. Seems like there’s a bank on every corner; there’s even one in WalMart. If you shop in WalMart, do you really need a bank in the same building? If you have to pull money out of savings to purchase a Dust Buster and a tube of toothpaste, maybe you should put that vacuum back on the shelf.

Just last week I saw a hotel is being built behind WalMart. I suppose it’s for all those folks shopping at Cabelas and not for weary travelers from Lockhart dining at Bill Miller’s BBQ. I’m not sure if Buda needs two hotels, but at least I’ll have a place to house all the in-laws when they arrive next summer for the wedding. I hope the new one is ready by June, or someone’s sleeping in the hay barn.

I see new subdivisions springing up in old cow pastures all across Hays County. Dripping Springs is busting at the seams, and Driftwood is home to a huge gated community built on range land. Across the interstate in Kyle, there are so many subdivisions that I can’t find the shortcut to the BonTon anymore without getting lost. And you should see the looks I get asking new homeowners for directions with a gutted axis buck strapped to the hood of my car.

Yep, like Bob Dylan once said, back when you could understand him, “Times are a’changing”. I’m not real big on changes, unless it’s smelly socks or a dirty diaper. I’m an ol’ country boy who lived in big cities as a kid, and always preferred small town life. So I’m a little saddened to see my little community turning into a big city. But there’s one place that I can retreat to that never seems to change: Port Aransas.

I took the family to Port A for a long weekend recently to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. As we stood on the ferry, breathing in the salt air and diesel fumes, I looked toward the island, wondering if it, too, has changed. For the past 24 years, I’ve been going to Port A for family vacations or weekends of rest and relaxation, often hooking up with my friends Jose Cuervo and Pepe Lopez.

Driving off the ferry, it didn’t take long to see Port Aransas hadn’t changed a bit. Whataburger, DQ and Subway are still the only restaurants belonging to a chain. The motels and resorts may have changed in name or color, but they are still there.

The residents are still bronzed, wrinkled and unshaven. And the men are, too.

The beaches still have dead seaweed scattered along its coast. There is often partially eaten fish washed ashore for wannabe CSI investigators to surmise the cause of death. The water is still too murky to see what just brushed up against your lower leg. Sure, the beaches at Daytona and Myrtle Beach are prettier, and the waters of Key Largo and Cozumel are crystal clear, but Port Aransas remains one of my favorite retreats. Perhaps because it takes me back to my younger days, when my newlywed bride and I would soak in the sun and talk of the future, and to the days of building sandcastles with my daughters.

Now, as my wife and I sit on the same beach, soaking up the sun in our slightly weathered skin, we talk of the past and how times have changed. Too many changes. Luckily, my friends Pepe and Jose still join us on our seaside retreats. Some things never change.

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