Montrose - Daily Press

My older bro, Paul; I write of him often. Now and then, we take “road trips” together. Last year, it was San Antonio and the Big 12 football championship game and later, Las Vegas. So far this year �“ the west Texas environs of Lubbock, Brady, San Angelo, and Midland. Not exactly glamorous places, but good for the soul. He’s a CPA and tax consultant who opened his practice in 1971 in Oklahoma City. He also teaches these days at Oklahoma City University. Some notes about some recent August days in west Texas:

• I like back roads and places like Roy, Mosquero and Logan. Right outside Mosquero, N.M. there’s a canyon with switchbacks that comes out of the landscape suddenly, complementing an already stunning sunset. It had been 30-plus years since I had seen a police car with a dummy inside, parked on the main street. Effective low-cost law enforcement as I pulled up suddenly on the accelerator. The last time I had seen one of these devices: Hedville, Kan., outside of Salina. (The things you remember.)

• Football is in the air in Lubbock. For years, the Red Raiders were the essence of mediocrity in the old Southwest Conference, playing second fiddle to Texas, Texas A&M, Arkansas. Nowadays, they’re one of the top football programs in the country and they’ve got Bobby Knight, to boot, over on the basketball court. Brother Paul and I started the trip off with a dinner at the 50-Yard Line Steakhouse. The walls are adorned with Red Raider memorabilia and photos from throughout the years. Famous athletes like E.J. Holub, Donnie Anderson, and Sheryl Swopes are honored. I was half-expecting a photo of Dr. Charles (Chuck) Alexander, DDS. Most know Dr. Chuck starred as a defensive back for the Red Raiders in the 1980s before getting into the smile business hereabouts. He also coaches defensive backs for the Montrose Indians. Dr. Chuck’s father, Dr. R.G. (Wick) Alexander, DDS is a member of the Red Raiders’ Hall of Honor as a two-sport athlete in the 1950s and an instrumental figure in the building of the Marsha Sharp Academic Center for Student Athletes. The elder Dr. Alexander and his wife visited Montrose last Christmas, watching their grandson, Mac Alexander, play basketball for the Indians. “Guns Up!” as they say in Lubbock. The home team hosts Eastern Washington come Saturday.

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• Saturday, Paul and I hustled over to Brady, Texas, to see his best pal from high school days in San Angelo, Gary Wagner, a Brady car dealer. Gary restores old cars and has six or eight for sale, in perfect condition �“ a 1950 Oldsmobile 88 that my brother coveted. For me, it was a 1970 Chevy pickup. If you’re ever in Brady �“ the “heart of Texas” �“ check out Mac’s. It’s one of those places for “serious barbecue.” You know it’s a real barbecue joint when they serve slices of white bread with the brisket and ribs. White bread, aka as “loaf bread,” is still a staple of carbohydrate primacy in BBQ places. The cook will grab two or four slices �“ it doesn’t matter �“ of Mrs. Baird’s and put them on the plate. White bread, always square and somewhat forlorn in comparison to the main fare, is a hallmark of the good stuff.

• We visited the house we grew up in San Angelo, 1705 MacKenzie. It was built right after WWII and my father, an Air Force veteran, bought it in 1945 for $4,000. It sat on a corner lot with seven pecan trees around the front yard perimeter. It was my job in the fall to climb the trees and shake the nuts out. We drove by some familiar sights: our old schools, Fort Concho, an Indian Wars outpost; we drove by local parks and the landmark Hotel Cactus. The grand lobby inside had been restored. We toasted our trip down memory lane with big glasses of iced tea and plates of Tex-Mex from Henry’s.

• Returning to Lubbock Sunday, we stopped off and visited with our parents who are buried in Midland. There they were: Helen & Bill. Good parents to two sons.

• During the return trip to Lubbock, while enjoying the Sunday sunshine in a convertible two-seater, we suddenly realized that neither of us had changed a flat tire in 30-plus years. Plus, these “foreign” cars don’t come with a “real” tire jack. Fortunately, or we might still be stuck on Highway 87 between Lamesa and Lubbock, Ron Mann, a state highway patrol trooper, stopped and assisted us.

We said our goodbyes quickly early Monday morning and talked on the phone several times as I drove west, and he drove east. Older brothers, always a blessing.

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