My parents never had a lot of money, but they always gave me and my three siblings new experiences. We took annual Spring trips into nature, and lots of day and weekend trips to Texas historic venues. We’d already been to San Antonio for the obligatory Alamo and Missions trips, but in 1968 San Antonio was making history our family HAD to experience – Hemisfair.
Mom and Dad owned a wood working shop and made butcher blocks, counter tops and cutting boards for restaurant supply companies and they had a customer in San Antonio. So, by delivering cutting boards enough to fill the back of our station wagon – “Lilly Belle” (all our station wagons had names) – to the restaurant supply company, they made the trip pay for itself.
So one summer morning, Mom and Dad loaded up the station wagon and off we went on our Hemisfair adventure. No hotel reservations, no advance tickets to the fair. First, we delivered the cutting boards to the restaurant supply. They knew there were no available hotels without reservations and told our parents the bad news when they paid them. But seeing the expressions on the faces of us four kids, they quickly arranged for tickets to the Hemisfair and pulled enough strings to get us into the Menger Hotel on the Riverwalk. While we waited for strings to be pulled, they entertained us by demonstrating a newfangled thing – a microwave oven. It was the size of a small house and they boiled water in a ceramic mug – wow – magic!
Finally, we had our reservations and left the restaurant supply company to go to the hotel. After we unloaded our things, we discovered we were all hungry. The concierge told us about a Mexican restaurant in walking distance from our hotel. It had been there for many years and was very good he said. I don’t think anyone in the family had ever eaten Mexican food before, but we decided to go – and chalk this up to another experience from this trip.
We found the restaurant with no trouble, and though business was brisk, they found a table for us. We sat down and began perusing the menu. Absolutely nothing was familiar. It was about then I saw the waitress deliver the meal to the gentleman at the table next to us. Nothing on his plate looked familiar either. And then I saw it. The man dipped his knife into a bowl of green mushy stuff and start spreading it on a tortilla. I grabbed Mom’s sleeve and tugged on it until I had her attention. I loudly exclaimed (much to my mom’s consternation), “We can’t eat here Mom. Look, the butter is green.”
I think everyone in the restaurant heard my exclamation. While the restaurant erupted in laughter, l had my lesson of the day. I learned that guacamole was green – and delicious.
