Sense of place

My family lived in Victoria, Texas, in the 1950s. I didn't have much of a sense of the geography of the place at the time -- just seat-of-the-pants stuff. As in sitting in the back seat of the car.

I knew it took all day to get to Fort Worth when we went with my dad on the occasional business trip. It took three days to get to Illinois to see my grandparents, so we only made triennial trips to do that. That time we drove to Nuevo Laredo for a day trip took forever.

Even the town's layout didn't register. I doubt if I could have told you NSEW then or now. I just knew where things were generally and about how long it took you to get there. Strange, then, when I went outdoors this morning to take a picture of the neighbor's cows, the air took me right back to Magnolia Beach, Texas. What evoked that?

We'd visit Magnolia Beach on the occasional Sunday afternoon. It sounds nicer than it was. The beach was rocky and there were always so many dead fish. I read in the "Handbook of Texas Online" that the place was named that to make it seem beautiful. All the magnolias, you understand, except there weren't any nearby. The community was planned as a real-estate venture but it didn't take off.

But what it was was close enough to home to take the family to the Gulf of Mexico for an afternoon. So maybe what I was feeling this morning was coastal air. It felt good. It was strong enough to send me 905 miles south for a quick visit. It felt real good.