Continue reading »]]> By HEATHER CATHLEEN COX
Special to the NEWS

Heather Cathleen Cox

A man walked into Starbuck’s, my other home, and looked at me quizzically before asking, “Hey, aren’t you Heather the Writer?” sort of like it was my full name.

Never mind the sheer fact that this stranger knows who I am and what I’m doing (he also asked “Is Heather the Writer, writing?”) is sorta creepy, I still smiled and nodded, but was careful not to look up from my work, hoping ignoring him would make him go away. While a regular person would take a hint and go on about their own business, this guy stood firm, gazing at me like this was Starbuck’spalooza and I was the main attraction. After seconds of awkward silence and my refusal to make eye contact with him, he finally motioned with his hands and said something I tried not to hear. Through peripheral vision, I noticed he was gesturing as though: “Oh, I’ll be back.”

He left. I thanked God, silently of course.

He came back.

He sat his drink down next to mine, on a small table, and threw a pile of work down on the floor. He made some disenfranchising sound as he plopped down in the comfy seat next to mine. I could feel his eyes on me, so I glanced over and I caught him looking at my laptop screen. Immediately, I knew this was not gonna fly.

I looked across the lobby, and I noticed multiple empty seats, comfy seats no less, on the other side of the shop. As I pondered how I would be able to get up and leave immediately, without looking rude, I decided to avoid further eye contact or verbalization. I had so much stuff with me – a purse, a laptop, a laptop bag, my coffee and a notebook – I knew it would take more than one trip to transfer it all. It was at this point it became obvious I had what I refer to as “Starbuck’s Problems.”

So, without further ado, I stood up. Of course, I dropped a pen. Of course. I bent over to pick it up before making my first voyage to the promised land. I thought briefly about just leaving the rest of my things where they were; however, one of the items left behind was my coffee. Shucks. Sigh. So I made another trip to my former seat, and he looked at me. Square in the eyes, he watched as I collected my grande mug of delicious blonde roast coffee, cooling by the moment. I told myself I wouldn’t say anything to him… that I would just move silently.

Starbuck’s is a free country, after all.

Then … it happened. Faced with the Starbuck’s creeper staring at me like he knew I was fleeing, I felt the pressure well up in my gut. It’s when faced with creeper situations such as this that a girl realizes what she’s made of. I couldn’t help it. I just couldn’t. I lied. “I’m not moving because of you,” I said with a halfhearted smile as I nearly ran to my new chair.

Lying is a bad, bad thing. Sigh.

I heard him say, “Thank you.” Which makes me believe, perhaps, this sort of thing happens to him often. Regardless, life was getting back to normal from my new vantage point when I noted a young man walk through the side door. This guy, though around 30 years younger than the first creep of the night, has a reputation for hitting on single women. Actually, he hit on me multiple times before he finally got the hint “it” wasn’t going happen – at which point I practically became dead to him. (I’m fine with that by the way.) This younger patron walked in, nodded my way, and stood in the doorway, tilting his head in a swirling motion, so as to “scope out the babes,” I’m sure. Then, he walked toward the older guy and shook his hand. They exchanged cordial somethings, I noted, and he sat down in the seat I had fled a few minutes prior.

Am I missing something? Is there a coalition of Starbuck’s creepers? Do they have a union?

Sigh.

Meanwhile, my coffee has gotten cold and the two left the building… at least for now. Ladies, beware. The Starbuck’s creepers not only exist, they are friends. They span multiple generations and know no bounds.

Although they may well run you out of your favorite chair, don’t let them run you out completely.

Until next time, may you be free from Starbuck’s Problems.

Read this story in the March 6 edition of the San Benito News, or subscribe to our E-Edition by clicking here.

Continue reading »]]> By HEATHER CATHLEEN COX
Special to the NEWS

For anyone just now joining the story, or for anyone who would like a recap, be invited to visit www.troubleandasoldier.com before reading.

For everyone else…

In the damp heat of a late-August Texas morning, Trouble and his big Dodge pick-up truck arrived at my apartment. I was wearing my swimsuit, my favorite multi-colored sundress, my Coppertone and had a bag full of essentials such as water bottles, towels and a camera.

This was not Trouble’s and my first trip to an amusement park, but this trip had been entirely Trouble’s idea. He and I hadn’t talked much since we broke up and I answered the call of God on my life. Trouble didn’t really understand what that entailed. I’m not sure if I did, either.

We hadn’t been at the park long before Trouble started complaining that some man, somewhere looked in my direction. Then, Trouble was thirsty and very upset that the water bottles were stashed away in a locker. We couldn’t get our caricatures painted by the graffiti artist guy because caricatures were “dumb,” but Trouble could blow $50 to “show off” at the basketball game.

I wanted to ride the Ferris wheel, which Trouble also thought was “dumb.” We couldn’t catch a show because those were apparently as “dumb” as everything else that was not basketball.

I had had all I could take of Trouble’s less-than-sunshiny demeanor, and I decided to drown him out while making my way to my favorite roller coaster, the Superman coaster. Right before an amusement park closes, the line for any ride is virtually nonexistent.

We must’ve ridden that ride 15 times. We rode until the park closed and our legs were like jelly.

On the way out, we observed our silly faces on a monitor that captures your image in case you want to purchase the memory. We didn’t buy a photo, but the tone of the day did change completely. Trouble and I talked – really talked – for the first time in months. He apologized for acting like a jerk and asked me to take him back.

I did.

Trouble knew my sublease was coming to a close as of September 14, roughly three weeks, and he wanted me to move to Austin to be closer to him.

I had other plans. I had been scouring the web for job listings, careful to seek “Christian” positions because I felt led to enter the ministry.

An orphanage in the Texas Hill Country was hiring live-in houseparents for a residential treatment facility. The facility itself was a private Christian operation, though the children were wards of the state. The job entailed caring for children (ages 7-18) who had been removed from homes where abuse and/or neglect had occurred.

Most of the children at this residence suffered from emotional distress and had been prescribed psychotropic medications by physicians and psychiatrists. As a result, these kids were fairly ill-behaved (violent, runaway risks, sexually deviant, etc.) at least some of the time.

The job didn’t pay much and required me to attend a month-long training program on their campus with no promise of actually being hired at the end of the 30-day period. I would also have to live with the children full-time. During my down time, i.e. when the kids were at school, I would be expected to wash laundry, file paperwork with the state and perform miscellaneous tasks as required. The facility was understaffed, so I was informed that whether or not I was scheduled for a day off, if no replacement houseparent was available, I would be required to stay and work.

I do not have brothers or sisters, nor do I have children of my own. I never even babysat, so I didn’t know the first thing about being a house “parent.” To be frank, it was all I could do to make sure I had food to eat and clean clothes to wear.

After praying over this job description, which had been provided to me by a lady named Allison who boldly stated this line of work “wasn’t for everyone,” I graciously declined her offer to interview.

I was thoughtful and courteous in my response, and I mentioned to Allison that I’d made the issue a matter of prayer. I explained to her that I was not equipped for such a heavy responsibility. I quoted Scriptures from the Bible which state that the Lord considers the care of widows and orphans to be serious work (James 1:27). While I wanted to do God’s work, I told Allison that these kids had already been through enough and deserved someone who knew how to care for them.

Throughout the remainder of August, I continued applying for work, really hoping to hear back from a couple of churches where I’d applied to be a secretary or youth leader. I was also looking for potential roommates because I knew I couldn’t afford to live alone with a limited income.

After nearly a month of diligently seeking work, I was no closer to obtaining a job than I’d been when I started looking.

I wrote a lot of music during college and throughout my time in San Antonio. In fact, two weeks before my car wreck in March, I’d just finished recording some original music and had been invited to play main stage at a female singer-songwriter music festival in Austin.

I was part of a duo, and my guitarist and I had been playing together for around a year when I moved to San Antonio. He and his girlfriend broke-up while Trouble and I were separated. I never thought of my guitarist as more than a friend and musician, a really good musician might I add, so I was not only completely floored when he made a very forward verbal advance, I also felt immensely uncomfortable.

Because I respected our working relationship, I invited him to lunch the next day. I wanted to salvage the duo, but he didn’t say much. That July day at a San Antonio deli would be the last I’d see him, at least intentionally.

Nonetheless, I was excited to have recorded my original 5-song acoustic EP (demo) and wanted to submit it to a record company. While I’d been looking for work, I had also been trying to find producers that accepted musical solicitations, which is not as easy as it sounds.

Music, time with God and writing were still filling my days, but nothing was filling my bank account. It seemed like every door was closed, dead bolted and otherwise lacking keys, and Trouble was waiting in the lurches for me to say: I need you to come save me and take me to Austin.

One Thursday, I logged in to my e-mail account in hopes I’d heard something from one of the music publishers to whom I’d solicited my EP. Instead, the only item I remember opening was a reply from Allison. I hadn’t heard from her in weeks.

Allison’s letter began with an acknowledgement that I had declined her initial offer to interview yet she continued. She said, “I normally don’t do this, but the Lord placed you on my mind. We could really use someone like you at the ranch. Call me as soon as possible if you’ll reconsider. I have an opening to interview on Monday morning for a training that starts on September 14.”

Well, looks like I’m out of space again. Thanks for joining me this week. Maybe I’ll see you back next time for more of the story. Until then, feel free to check the website for updates.

Read this story in the Dec. 30 edition of the San Benito News, or subscribe to our E-Edition by clicking here.

Continue reading »]]> By JOE BOCANEGRA
Special to the NEWS

Joe Bocanegra

It is parade season in the fair city of San Benito.

It has been said that one thing leads to another, and this time is no exception. Being a resident walker in the town, I have even participated in a few parades. They have been full of cheer, well-being, and loads of fun. As will this upcoming one will be, no doubt about that.

Of course, there have some parades in which were so tacky and tasteless, that I wondered why there would be one in the first place. I have yet to find one here in San Benito, and I’ll let you know if ever I do see one. I guess we’re just that amazing as to not have one.

Not to say that there have been tacky floats. Some have been flat-out bad, not to the point of bile trying to escape my mouth, but some have come close. But those kinds of things are few and far between.

As mentioned, I tend to walk around the crowds of the parades, often going to the preparation area, where the floats have yet to be released, where the bands are scattered around, where the folks are making sure everything is up to par. Then I walk on the other side and mingle with the crowds over there. I am sure I am not the only one who does this.

Right?

Anyone?

So, this year’s homecoming parade will also be welcoming the state-bound San Benito Mighty Greyhound Band home after competing Tuesday at the UIL State Marching Band Competition.

In fact, at this very moment on Tuesday, while I was writing these very lines, we were all eagerly anticipating word from those who traveled with the band to the Alamodome in San Antonio, where the band performed at the state contest, on how well they did. Trust me, folks. This was intensely more riveting than awaiting the victor of the Obama-Romney race. I did vote, by the way, in case you were wondering. I hope you all did as well.

But I digress. I am sure the band alone will be worth watching and – like the parades we have been having all these years – this year’s homecoming procession will be filled with excitement and wonder

I have to say that one of the most anticipated of attractions have not been the various floats of pomp and cheer or the interesting vendors that sell cupcakes and sodas, but instead the bands, with their smart uniforms and their flashing instruments blaring in the sunshine. That moment of anticipation as the opening cadence to the fight song kicks off renders you helpless, you have no choice but to cheer your heart out.

I do show off my spirit; I have worn purple and gold during my yearly walks around the homecoming parade, and usually shake hands with the team when I’m in the prep areas.

To be honest, I have yet to find a parade that was not under perfect conditions the first time. Last year’s rescheduling of the Christmas parade was a bit confusing, if I may be so bold to say. But then, I cannot remember a parade in which the sun shined that bright, the wind was that perfect, and the crowds were that thick.

So, fellow walkers of the sidewalk, I ask of you to come out this week for the homecoming parade on Thursday.

Cheer your heart out when your favorite band passes by and celebrate the Greyhounds as they pass by.

Lean back in your chairs, because I’m sure you have your preferred spot to camp out, enjoy the weather, and, most of all have fun!

Read this story in the Nov. 7 edition of the San Benito News, or subscribe to our E-Edition by clicking here.

Continue reading »]]> By JOE BOCANEGRA
Special to the NEWS

Joe Bocanegra

I must have been in sixth grade when I began walking. We lived a few blocks away from what used to be Berta Cabaza Middle School, and my sister and I were forced to start walking to and from school. It was thanks in part of this that I met up with some interesting people, such as the Memorable Four, Mr. Doohickey, and others that have no part in this column just yet.

It was also the time of the Itchy Feet, so named because that’s when I got them. I had to walk in order to ‘scratch the itch.’ It did not matter when it happened, once I got them, on went the shoes and off I went, my curiosity leading the way. This has led to some interesting adventures throughout the combined seven years in school.

Keep in mind that I did not know the city as well as I do now. I was still green, and I often got scolded for getting into someone else’s property. I also had the tact of a steamroller – I would often trample on someone’s yard to admire a newly-planted tree or to look at the yarn furniture that was there. The actions usually led to plenty of swearing and scolding by the current homeowners at the time; although, in some cases, the owners would greet me, offer some refreshment, and would strike a conversation.

On various occasions, my curiosity got myself into sticky situations. One memorable incident was when I foolishly walked into a burned out building and had one of my feet fall into the charred floor. I didn’t fall all the way in, thank goodness, but after pulling myself out and slowly leaving the building, I scolded myself for such a stupid endeavor. Never again, I promised, but that was not to be. A few years after that, I had the idiocy to walk into another condemned building, where I almost had the misfortune to have a piece of masonry fall over my head when I was walking in. Instead, it brushed my shoulder and caused me to slowly back out of the house and walk away.

The itch sometimes woke me up in the middle of the night, keeping me awake for an hour or two before falling back asleep; however, this happened more often during my junior and senior years in high school. Once, I got the itch so badly that I woke up, got out of bed, put on my shoes and walked out towards the downtown area. I remember it being so quiet and calm: just the occasional police car passing by, the streetlamps sifting their lights down, and the soft winds blowing past. That night, I very leisurely strolled down to what was the Goodyear building, sat down on that wooden bench that has been there for ages, and enjoyed the quiet for a bit before walking back home and into bed.

Once I tried selling chocolates. In seventh grade, I received a package of those school chocolate bars. It was en-route home where I got the idea to knock on almost every door and ask if they wanted to buy a bar. I almost sold them all before my parents, driving over to the campus because I was taking too much time walking, pulled over, picked me up and scolded me for bothering people. First and last time doing this, unfortunately.

After graduation, the itchy feet slowly left. Nowadays, the urge to walk has turned into a necessity. Still, once in a while, the urge hits me, and I walk off, my sense of adventure leading me to the still unknown areas of the city. I will probably keep doing this as long as I walk.

Want the whole story? Pick up a copy of the Oct. 26 edition of the San Benito News, or subscribe to our E-Edition by clicking here.

Continue reading »]]> By JOE BOCANEGRA
Special to the NEWS

Joe Bocanegra

In any city, change is everywhere. Empty lots mysteriously grow up into flourishing businesses, then back to empty lots. Houses, new and sparkling, grow into disrepair. In most cases, a walker can see any of this up close and personal.

If one were to walk down the downtown district, he or she will see a line of empty buildings, yes, but those buildings were flourishing once. And usually, they are built upon by other businesses that use those same areas in new places and in new ideas. Well, mostly new ideas. I mean, how many Zumba places can this city actually have?

Still, it is rather sad when a place you walk past (or in many cases, into) disappear into obscurity. Sometimes they move into better places, either because of financial reasons or the business grew too big for the original to hold. For instance, there was a tea shop that I have visited for years; they moved to another, bigger place a block away a year or so back. Another example was a gym that was very popular in the downtown area during the early ’00s; they also grew too big and moved into a place over on Sunshine Strip, then that place grew too small, so they went into Harlingen.

To witness a place that you see with regularity turn into an empty building is quite sad. Was it either a lack of business or something else that happened?

Sometimes, something in a state of disrepair can be turned into a place to stay.

For example, I remember one house about a block away from where I live. It was, for years, terribly decrepit: broken windows, overgrown yards, lots of garbage and decay on the house. Since my usual walking path was along the street it was located, I kept on going past this eyesore. Then, earlier this year, there was a cleaning crew on the place, which was soon replaced with a group of construction workers, who remodeled the place – replacing windows and refinishing the outside, adding new rooms, even covering the yard with sod. About two months later, a family of three was already moving in, and they are still there. I do not know if they knew of its previous incarnation or not; however, I don’t think they care.

Another remodeling happened under my radar, sort of speaking. There was a glass shop downtown that closed down last year, and the property was onward to becoming another empty lot. However, when I walked past it last month, the property was splitting into two separate lots, each one quite modern. I would say they’re currently on the waiting list for property, I do not know.

Sometimes, though, you have those businesses that have been there for so long in one place that you might think they could stay there forever. A fantastic example of this would be the Stars drive-in. I have been around for about 30 years, and this place has been there in that spot for all that time. I have asked my parents a few times during my untactful youth if they were ever going to close, to which they would only get a ding on the ear.

So, I ask you, fellow walkers, to take a moment or two to look around during your travels, notice the empty business lots that we have, and wonder to yourself just what happened to these places, how we can fix this and more importantly what we can do to have less of them.

Hopefully, we can try to have more places to walk through and into.

Read this story in the Oct. 17 edition of the San Benito News, or subscribe to our E-Edition by clicking here.

Continue reading »]]> By JOE BOCANEGRA
Special to the NEWS

Joe Bocanegra

One tends to get distracted with the sights and sounds of the city while walking through these pothole-riddled roads. Walking not only is a meaning of transport between point A and point B, but it is also a means of seeing what is between the points. And you tend to enjoy those points-within-points with far more detail than what you can in a car or bike. Well, that’s a bit of a lie since, with a bike, you can at least land yourself on the curb without a single honk or obscene gesture than driving can get you.

Two modern examples of these points are street art and graffiti.

To me, these two are very different. Street art illustrates while graffiti degrades. Some critics say that these two terms are interchangeable, but I do not. One speaks of artwork that can stay for ages, gracing the city with beauty and originality while the other has been downgraded for hoodlums and gang members and usually covered up.

Most of this stuff is seen behind the storefronts, in the backstreets and alleyways, but one major place for street art is the skateboard park right next to the downtown railroad. Not only does it show fantastic works of street art, but it is changes every six months or so. Of course, the bordering walls stay the way they are, which serves as a slight contrast of the changes that the main wall has. I have seen that wall go from abstracts to portraits and back since the park first opened, but I would love to see it change to a huge sci-fi scene with gun-toting astronauts and scantily-clad alien females, with the 1980s movie classic “Heavy Metal” acting as inspiration.

Most of the street art is done with spray paint (the only thing, I think, that joins this and graffiti together), which is done freehand; although, some is made by stenciling with painter’s tape. I have seen a good number of the former throughout the city, the skate park included. One simply fills in forms, then uses different shades as highlights, shadows, and outlines. I have witnessed this creation myself on occasion during my travels, and every time I linger a bit and watch.

Graffiti, or tagging as the current lingo goes, is a bit more chaotic whereas it’s just a symbol of a certain gang or, for the more egotistical, their own initials. Sad to say, the city is layered in the stuff, which often causes home and storeowners grief as they’re burdened with cleaning the unsightly mess.

Of course, the two could be combined into one when it is unwanted. One of the more recent cases is the Dolly Vinsant stenciled-in graffiti a while back. Unwanted simply for the reason that it degraded the building, yet if it graced the front of a tattoo parlor, it might fit right in.

This leads me to another point, which is when and where either is desired. Most cases of graffiti are unwanted simply for the reason that they are inappropriately placed. By that, I mean the business fronts, the sides, and sometimes even the sidewalks. The city and the business usually do cover it up, or in some cases wash it off, but that only invites the people to do it again. Keep in mind that it is in places where it could be seen. If it was behind the store, or in the alleys, chances are that it would stay.

For example, there is a small mural located amidst the downtown area. It shows an image of a person, of indiscriminate age, and black and white swirls of paint surround the image. From what I can tell, this has been here for years. Given the previous definitions, this would be called street art, because it beautifies. But is it graffiti? Is it not unwanted – no attempts have been made to destroy it or cover it up. It is just there. Of course it could be labeled as such, but as I mentioned, since it is not really noticeable, no one makes the effort to cover it up.

It goes to show you that beauty really is in the eye of the beholder.

Read this story in the Oct. 10 edition of the San Benito News, or subscribe to our E-Edition by clicking here.

Continue reading »]]> By JOE BOCANEGRA
Special to the NEWS

Joe Bocanegra

Change is here. That’s noticeable in my daily commutes by foot. Although the current temperatures are still hot during the daytime, it is not as hot as it has been during the summer. Cool breezes are starting to blow, and the climes becoming softly chilly. We are experiencing fall, as odd as it sounds.

This sort of thing is indeed a welcome change from the oppressive heat we have had all this summer. The sun shines, but it has lost its bite. Our collective sighs fill the streets as we step out, a stiff northern breeze tickling our fancies and make us think of wooly items and the holiday seasons – to me, that is. It might be different for you, fellowwalkers, but still.

To borrow a term from one of my favorite authors, Ray Bradbury, we are experiencing October Country. Here, summer takes one last gasp while the cold moves into the scene, or at least tries to. I remember one October in which it was still in the mid-90s for most of the month until it got stifled by a northern front during its last week.

Speaking of which, this month is also quite perilous for us walkers, especially for those wearing shorts. I have had many episodes in both school and after in which I was walking around and wearing shorts during the morning, seeing a front move in mid-day, and having me shiver all the time I was walking home during the afternoon. One episode in particular was when I was a senior at San Benito High School. I had to walk from the high school athletic building, across the parking lot, and into the side cafeteria doors in 50-degree cold wearing shorts and sandals. No fun at all.

Another thing that October marks is the start of the Halloween season; although, I am starting to see Christmas decor already popping up around the city and the various shopping centers. It is a terrible shame for this to happen, because the month speaks to us of crisp colored leaves and of spiced cider, not of pine trees and presents. But that will be a different column in a different time. Right now is reserved for October.

At the moment, not many houses are decorated with fall items in general, something I bemoaned about a bit last week. Still, the occasional house and business are having the discreet holiday accents: a few pumpkins on the porch, a wreath of fall leaves hanging at the door. I am sure that as the month goes by, I will be walking past more and more elaboration, to which I will be most grateful to see.

Fall, this month in particular, also speaks of preparation. I have walked upon the high school band practicing outside for both the Pigskin Jubilee and SBHS Homecoming festivities. When this sort of thing happens, I usually join the other spectators – comprised of students and band parents – and join in the cheering-on as the band perfect their music and their movements. I have spent many a fall afternoon doing this, then walking back home when they finish in high spirits.

Lastly, October hosts the wonderful monarch butterfly migration, something that San Benito welcomes with open arms. Throughout the years, I have come across many a rabble (their collective noun), flying across and around the streets, tickling the fancies of us fellow walkers. Especially the kids, which chase after them and try to catch them. But the secret of catching a butterfly, as any seasoned walker should know, is not running, but standing still and letting them land on you.

So it is with this month.

I put forth the proposition to enjoy October, this mid-season of fall, to the best of our abilities. To those willing to, set your scariest monsters and decor on your yards and porches. Some more fall wreaths on the doors and windows. Maybe a couple signs of well-wishes for the high school band in support of their upcoming Pigskin competition. Hang up a few butterfly feeders. In other words, let this month be one of the best that you have had. And try not to wear shorts.

Read this story in the Oct. 3 edition of the San Benito News, or subscribe to our E-Edition by clicking here.

Continue reading »]]> By JOE BOCANEGRA
Resaca City Streets

Joe Bocanegra

The chance to see school colors obviously heightens once football season is here. When one walks Resaca City Streets (name of the column!), one sees the occasional outburst of team spirit up close and personal.

During the early 00s, I regularly walked past a house that showed its spirit every football match. The house was liberally decorated with purple and gold streamers across the fence while a wooden San Benito Greyhound mascot, holding up the current opponent’s helmet, was propped up in the front yard. I had no idea where they got the helmets, and I was too amazed at the show of spirit to ask.

Another fantastic display was at another home a few years ago, during the week of the annual Battle of the Arroyo. Curiously, the house was decorated with Harlingen Cardinal colors. The porch and a huge tree were festooned in red and white streamers. I was astounded at the audacity of the owners, whom I was sure were not Greyhound fans. And if they were, shame on them!

Of course, team spirit is not in short supply at the middle schools. I have walked past gaggles of students wearing Berta Cabaza’s silver and purple as well as Miller Jordan’s yellow and black; although, such a thing could be frowned upon by said students when the colors are worn by the opposing schools. For example, I was once considered a ‘traitor’ for wearing MJ colors during my stay at BC, to which my defense was, “Just be happy I am not wearing Cardinal colors.”

Nowadays, we don’t have as many local homes, or businesses for that matter, decorated in school colors – either that or I am missing them by a block or two off the beaten path. Still, I would not mind seeing Greyhound spirit in all its glory – like the way it used to be “back in the day.” The amazing demonstration of spirit exhibited by fans, which will certainly return in the coming weeks as Homecoming inches closer, should not be reserved for a few games out of the year.

Hear me out for a minute. There’s little that can challenge the festivities that surround Halloween, Thanksgiving and especially Christmas. Those holidays represent times of the year in which people appear more spirited – lively, if you will. But I reckon Greyhound football also qualifies as a holiday season. After all, it’s one of the few times of the year that San Benitians aren’t always at each other’s throats. The smell of Frito pie, nachos and the cold burn of drinking cola while rooting for the ’Hounds at Bobby Morrow Stadium goes hand in hand with the feeling one gets when staring googly-eyed at a Christmas tree, when watching your favorite scary movies on Halloween night, or when the heavenly aroma of turkey, pumpkin pie and stuffing fills the house.

So come on, people. Make my Greyhound holidays special this year and every year thereafter. I want to see your true colors shining through!

Read this story in the September 26 edition of the San Benito News, or subscribe to our E-Edition by clicking here.

Continue reading »]]> By JOE BOCANEGRA
Resaca City Streets

Being that I love to travel by foot in this great city of San Benito, I have often come upon the most interesting of sights and sounds. And let me just say that I have quite a few stories I could tell you. But Tuesday being National Cheeseburger Day, I was compelled to present to you my first inclusion in a series of conversations I hope to have with you about my experiences walking the streets of San Benito: local cuisines!

During the times I have been walking about San Benito, as many people know me to do, I have come across many a cheeseburger. These are not specifically here in the Resaca City, but also in Harlingen, Rio Hondo and Los Fresnos. I’m not talking about the burger chains either, but those little places in the corners of the city, neatly tucked in the by-ways of the town.

How many of you remember the burger booth that was next to Fred Booth Elementary ages ago? The white one with the red trim, I mean. I remember being taken there to sample their wares when I was much younger, which usually consisted of a top-heavy burger loaded with pickles and grilled onions and with tater tots on the side. That combination hooked me in for the rest of my life.

During high school, I had another hamburger craze, this time at the little bistro that was across the school. They had this double-decker burger: two thick slabs of beef, two fat slices of American cheese between them, toasted bun, add your own fixings. And I did add them: onions and pickles and mustard. No fries added, much to my sadness, but the burger itself didn’t need it.

Of course, the ones that I had in college were, I think, one of the best I have had. I would regularly walk to a café that would have everything cooked in butter: the buns, the meat, the bacon. Oh yes, it was then I had my first taste of a bacon cheeseburger. They also had a double-decker burger, but instead of cheese, they had bacon freshly cooked and warm. I fell in love with the place and that burger for years, often visiting them until they closed a few years ago.

Today, there are not many mom-and-pop burger places in our fair city of San Benito (and elsewhere), but I am always on the lookout for them. And when I find one, I often order the usual: a cheeseburger with onions, tomatoes, pickles, mayo on both sides, and a batch of fries on the side. Fix that up with an iced cola, and you have yourself one of the happiest guys on the planet.

So I salute you, cheeseburger, for making my journeys throughout the city indescribably delicious. May we meet always again, hopefully with a bottle of mayo and of ketchup on the side.

To read this story in print, pick up a copy of the September 19 edition of the San Benito News, or subscribe to our E-Edition by clicking here.

Continue reading »]]> By CARLOS CANAS
Special to the NEWS

The topic of my letter today is one concerning the topic of volunteering for community service. As I visited the city of Hidalgo this past week and viewed the millions of lights placed around the city, I was taken aback by the scope and size of the project that surely must have involved many dozens of people.

Looking at this major undertaking I also thought about the city of Branson, Missouri. This small town has but as few thousand permanent residents but yet each year they play host to millions of visitors. In each case I believe that it is the team effort put forth by the citizens of each of these cities that makes their towns so prosperous and successful. As I look at our city I have a vision of us working together to make this town a tourist destination. The main idea is how do we package our city so that people have a reason to visit and how do we go about reaching out to the tens of thousands of Winter Texans who visit our Valley each year. In my dealings with these fine folks I have found that they come here to relax, to go out and eat, and to be entertained. It is my opinion that with our museums and restaurants we could put together an itinerary for visitors to follow when they visit. Packaging dinner and entertainment (museums and concerts) could work as a one day visit for these folks. As for the community volunteering and what we as citizens could do to make this town nicer I would suggest that families, churches, and civic organizations choose local businesses, parks, and streets that they could help beautify. One such project that I have undertaken is the Stonewall Jackson Restaurant and Hotel. I believe that this historical treasure could be an anchor for tourism much like the museums located across the street are. This is a real piece of living history and as such I think we should be trying to support this endeavor. Another location worthy of mention is Oakhills Event Center. This home has been around for many years and the work that the owners have put into it is vast. The Valley has few outdoor patio bars like this and if you have not been out to visit I would invite to go by. Another historical site is Robertson Street and La Villita in particular could do with more publicity. This dance hall is steeped in a rich cultural tradition of Conjunto music so why not capitalize on that. Imagine various musical concerts staged throughout the city on the same day; in the Stonewall Jackson some oldies music, in La Villita a conjunto or trio or 50’s rock and roll bands, at the Heavin Amphitheater some mariachis, at the community building some classical guitars and the Museums of San Benito opened with special exhibits.

Combine all of this with a brochure of all the restaurants in town and specials offered for that day and we could have a really special event for all of the state to talk about. No one said that Austin has to be the only live music capital of the state; we could give them a run for their money with the right planning and community volunteers.