My sister has a crush on Galveston, Texas, and every time she comes to visit, we try to spend a day there. It’s only an hour away, and we’ve even gone during her winter trips, bundled in sweaters, our photos showing bodies rigid from trying to stave off the icy Gulf breeze. It’s not always tropical days and sultry nights on the Gulf Coast.
Cousin Ron calls the Gulf of Mexico the “Faux-cean.” NOT! Waves? Check. Can you surf them? Sometimes, so check. Sandy beaches? Check. Seaweed? Check. Salt water? Check. Seashells? Check. Jellyfish? Check. Dolphins? Check. SHARKS? Check.
That makes it an ocean, dammit.
The Texas and Louisiana beaches aren’t as pretty to me as the white sands of Florida, Alabama, and Mississippi. And nothing beats the greens and blues of Florida’s Gulf water. But the reason my sister likes Galveston is because it’s old, a little worn down, so it has the same appeal as most Southern cities. In the South, we don’t like everything shiny and new. We like our cities the same way we like our people–with a little mystery, a bit of weathering, a smattering of insanity, and a lot of charm.
On Sunday, Tom and I duly threw the sister in the car and hit the road. Please don’t judge all of Galveston by these photos, as they were mainly taken on the Strand, which is the touristy section of town. They can’t even begin to convey the amazing homes, gardens, and architecture elsewhere on the island. Next trip, maybe.
Here are a few things that caught my eye. In some cases, it almost felt like some of you were standing next to me. I’ll leave it to you to figure that out.
Shops
You know that Texas is the birthplace of Dr. Pepper, right?
You can run, but you can’t hide. They are omnipresent.
Never too early to Christmas shop.
Architecture
Almost every building has a marker. The Hendley Building, with construction started in 1855, was the first commercial structure in Galveston.
Beasts
Well-behaved dog.
Dog gone wild.
Revenge of the dog.
Ready for the day to be over.
Perhaps also ready for the day to be over.
A patch of welcome shade.
The Absurd
Effects of Houston air pollution on wildlife.
One-Kidney Charlie is back from Candy Mountain, and he’s mad as hell.
This frightened my sister. I think it’s a cross-dressing Mercock.
Blurry because the Clown Monkey was on the move.
Bob gave me an idea for when I leave the house.
I should wear this sign:
Humble beginnings of a future president.
The Sublime
Growing wild.
This picture doesn’t really capture the pale yellow oleander, the first I’ve ever seen of that color.
It is a well-known truth that Southerners are obsessed with cemeteries.
*”shake a cat” is a newly coined phrase without meaning and does not imply approval of cat shaking
We do love our cemetaries. did you happen to see any of my relatives graves there? (Not that i know there are any there..but I always check.)
I love the blue doors with rusted locks.
The only grave I remember said “VEDDER.”
I could take photos of weathered, painted wood forever.
Sigh… I love Galveston. We need to go the next time they have one of their artists’ street fairs.
I want to sell my tiny canvases in Galveston. You know the garden? Where the chess set is? There was a guy painting there. Remind me to tell you about it.
I love Guinness, and I have clownfish tattoo on my ankle. I enjoyed seeing Charlie striking back for what happened to him at Candy Mountain. The Monkey clown is just wrong.
These photos, the architecture and everything, really were wonderful. I like Bob a lot, too.
There is nothing like a good cemetery.
We have a fantastic cemetery near The Compound. But I rarely take visitors there, because most of my guests aren’t Southerners and may not enjoy it like I do.
Clown Monkeys?!? (*gulp*) Will the madness never end?!?
Great pics otherwise. 🙂
Yeah, the monkey and the clown fish were all for you.
You know I wouldn’t have minded if you’da kept shaking that cat. I could look at wonderful pictures like that all day. Everything looks so cool.
Thanks!
You’re welcome. It’s SO GREAT to know another picture whore.
SHAKE A CAT AT?
A poor choice of phraseology for a world renowned author. Perhaps you would like to reconsider it, before I am “forced” to pay you a visit.
Don Oskar LeChat
Re: SHAKE A CAT AT?
Dear Oskar,
No cats were harmed in the writing of this post. Apparently the phrase “you can’t swing a cat without hitting something” derives from the British naval use of a cat-o-nine-tails (leather whip) for punishment on board ship. Since there wasn’t enough room below deck to lash a miscreant sailor, it was done on deck.
At some point, the phrase became “swing a dead cat.” I don’t know why.
When I was talking to Jim recently, I was trying to tell him that there was an abundance of something, such as, “you can’t swing a cat without hitting one.” But instead, I mispoke, “You can’t shake a cat…” whereupon I wound down, not knowing how to finish that. Jim responded with, “What? You can’t what? What does that mean? Who would shake a cat?” And I could only answer, “A British nanny.”
So, Oskar, you are safe if you avoid British nannies and British navies.
Sincerely,
Becky
Re: SHAKE A CAT AT?
You know, Zora Neale Hurston used that phrase, to swing a cat, a lot in her interviews.
I think yours has character, actually. 🙂
Re: SHAKE A CAT AT?
I do have to apologize for Oskar, he’s been watching the Soprano’s again and thinks he a don in the cat mafia. You’re safe, he really doesn’t travel well. Avoiding nannies is easy, the British Navy would be a little harder for me.
Great tour photos, but the kitsch was really below par.. There weren’t any snow gloves.
And since all I’ve got is a big river, the gulf would look like an ocean to me.
Really Rob
Re: SHAKE A CAT AT?
I am willing to kiss Oskar’s ring and owe him a favor.
Oh, Becky, I haven’t been ankle-deep in beach in years. That was wonderful. I’m with Gene, thank you for zeroing in on those turquoise doors. I like those two “plaid” paintings on the seashell mantel, too… never seen anything like them.
I need to dig out some paintings to photograph for you. Or rather, ask Tom to dig them out, which will require great begging on my part because of where they are.
Hey, Tom!
You know, Tom, I just had to drag my cursor, in order to scroll all the way down here to lodge this comment, farther than any sane man would attempt. Might’ve injured my wrist in the manuver. So, come on, dig out the pictures.
They are dug out. Now I just have to find my camera. Hard to believe that it’s not RIGHT UNDER MY HAND. Come to think of it, I believe it’s in my car in the glove compartment.
Is it sad that I know the blackboard behind the Dr Pepper bottle is a Chimay blackboard? J’aime les peres trappiste! Chimay: c’est si bon.
Glad you got some photos of the architecture on The Strand. Some of those buildings are awesome, and if you ever get the chance, visit the Lone Star Drug Store. It has the original soda fountain. Mmmm.
I believe I have been there before. Now I barely go in the shops because I’ve done it so often and it always makes me want to spend money that I don’t have.
I lived on the gulf for 11 years and never thought of it as the ocean. Why? Because it was better!
It IS better!
Where to start?? This was an absolutely wonderful post.
I wholeheartedly agree with this sentiment: “In the South, we don’t like everything shiny and new. We like our cities the same way we like our people–with a little mystery, a bit of weathering, a smattering of insanity, and a lot of charm.” AMEN, sister!
At the risk of being repeating Gene and Mark, I LOVE those blue doors and hinges.
The other architecture is great, too.
MY friend, Mikey, would love the Mercock. He collects roosters. I “borrowed” your pic and sent it to him.
LOL @ clown monkey! I’ll protect you, David.
I enjoy roaming in old cemetaries myself. When I was a kid, that’s where we had the church Easter Egg hunt. LOL
The unicorn thingy cracked me up d disturbed me at the same time.
And finally, our cat is way too fat to shake. I’llpost a pic in my LJ.
Thanks, Gary. You can borrow my photos any ol’ time. My friend Jeff collected roosters and chickens. That’s a story for another day.
MERCOCK
S C A R Y
C R E E P Y
J U S T N O T R I G H T