Karoni had never heard of Ojeda’s Restaurant. Consequently, she didn’t know what she was missing. I should have exercised some reserve in taking her there on Monday evening. After all, Karoni’s definition of home cooking is a Mexican food restaurant near her home in Lakeway. After a taste of Ojeda’s, she might not be as content with the home cooked meal she gets in Lakeway.
Of course, Ojeda’s no longer draws attention to the table in their restaurant where former President Bill Clinton sat when he dined there. At one time, the table was still covered with the tablecloth he signed. I know that only because I’ve eaten at that table. Of course it was within a month of the President having been there. Like I inferred, I’ve got decades of history with that restaurant. It is probably a stretch for me to say that I’ve dined with Presidents and Kings, but I’ve at least eaten at the same table and picked from the same menu.
I guess you could refer to the restaurant as a genuine family business. It was started by Ben Ojeda in 1969 and reportedly is still operated by Mama Ojeda and her fourteen children.
Had we followed the GPS recommendation to go back through Dallas, it would have been difficult not to stay for dinner. While it may be true that I don’t have the good sense to pour it out of a boot with the directions on the heel, I at least know the definition of a quagmire. A quagmire is getting in the middle of Dallas traffic at the end of a workday. Why would anyone want to do that? Been there/done that! “No thanks” was my vote in the process. Of course, I didn’t really have a vote. My nice was driving and it was her car.
Fortunately she agreed and it was back roads, two-lane traffic, at the end of a very full, but meaningful day. I almost said, “enjoyable day”, but I caught myself. Are funerals supposed to be enjoyable? Actually the one that we attended on Tuesday was enjoyable. The joy took precedence over the sorrow because of the hope provided through the gift of God.
So we found ourselves on a back roads Texas road-trip on two lane roads. It doesn’t get any better than that. So I asked, “Would you like for me to drive?” She provided me the same response she had provided me three different times on Monday. So when she said, “No thanks, I’m okay” was she really implying: “I’m okay, but your driving is not?” I guess I could have asked that question, but I’m not sure I’d have liked the answer.
I had the thought that driving with me in the car had to resemble road trips I sometimes took with my granddad. Every road sign we passed reminded Granddad of a story. I guess I’ve now lived long enough that the same is true with me.
The road sign for Malakoff, TX reminded me of my days in residential childcare licensing. Malakoff was the home of St. Paul Industrial Training School, an African-American orphanage and training school. The owner/operator was Alice Smothers. Many referred to her as “Mother Smothers”. I won’t say that the home and school was always highly regarded for compliance with State licensing standards. Sometimes it’s not what you know, but whom you know that can make a difference. One of Mother Smother’s children was Representative Clay Smothers who served in the Texas House of Representatives. I remember those days well.
The road sign to Palestine reminded me of a Pontiac Fiero I purchased in 1983. It was the first two-seater Pontiac since 1938. I stopped at a Pontiac dealer in Palestine as I traveled back from Tyler to Austin. It really wasn’t an impulse purchase on my part, because I waited almost a week to go back to Palestine to get it. It may not have been an impulse purchase, but it wasn’t a wise purchase. I guess you could say that I got out while the getting was good. I only kept the car for four months before I needed new tires on the back.
Of course, Corsicana reminded me of fruitcakes. Karoni’s response of course is that my mother and I are the only two people she’s ever known that liked fruit cakes. Trust me, she’s never tried a fruitcake from Collins Street Bakery in Corsicana or she’d think differently.
Of course the mention of the Collin Street Baker reminded me of the news story of the former comptroller for the bakery. I guess you could say he got a sweet deal. His was the lifestyle of the rich and famous. I don’t know how you do that on a $50,000 dollar annual salary, but the turn of the century Victorian home he and his wife renovated in Corsicana was the talk of the town. In addition, the 223 trips he and his wife took by chartering private jets to travel to far away places should have caused John Q. Public or at least their closest neighbors to question how they stretched their budget that far. Of course most of them probably didn’t know about their $3.5 million dollar watch collection or the pieces of fine jewelry that were in excess of a thousand.
The second home in Mexico was probably only information known by a few close friends. Instead of changing oil in his high dollar vehicles, he just bought new ones; thirty-eight to be exact.
The thing that most surprises me is that it took years for anyone at the Collins Street Bakery to be the wiser. The sweet deal came to an end when the comptroller was found guilty of embezzling $16.7 million dollars. I bet it is still the talk of the town.
All My Best!
Don