what’s german for ‘barbecue’?

LOCKHART, Texas — According to legend*,  HCB drew a circle with a 500-mile radius around his tiny Illinois hometown. Then he decided to go to college outside that radius. And that’s how he ended up at the University of Texas** in Austin, where his romance with BB began.

Longtime readers know that I think HCB and his wife, BB, are two of the finest humans on the planet today. So who better to ask for Austin advice?

HCB has been texting daily to check on our whereabouts. He said he’s living vicariously through us. But where he really has brought his expertise to bear is in the barbecue department. BB is from Lockhart, Texas, which HCB (and the Texas Legislature) have declared the Barbecue Capital of Texas.  Conveniently located on the drive back from San Antonio, Lockhart was a place we had to see for ourselves. This Hill Country town boasts multiple barbecue joints, and everybody seems to have their favorite.

We chose Black’s, humble from the outside, even humbler on the inside. It has the requisite horns on the wall and the red-and-white-checkered tablecloths. But Black’s features two specialties: Brisket and German bluegrass.

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It’s true! I loved the brisket (although I didn’t get the traditional sausage alongside – simply didn’t have room with all the great fixins). And the German bluegrass band – the Sieker Band – was enjoyable as well. 

 Blacks

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In case you didn’t know – and I didn’t – this part of Texas was settled by lots of German and Czechs. I learned this through some comments on my Facebook page earlier this week. And driving down I-35, seeing such town and road names as Greune (pronounced Greene), Schumannsville, Schertz and Wurzbach, I saw that it was true.

Lockhart doesn’t have a German name, but it definitely has a colorful history and a striking courthouse that anchors a lovely downtown.  Any coincidence that BB married a future judge? I think not.

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* As recounted by HCB himself

** “Hook ‘Em Horns,” HCB himself would say at this point

 

been a long time since they scored a goal

AUSTIN, Texas — The agenda for Austin is simple:  see live music, drink beer, eat Tex-Mex food.  Simple instructions, pick any order.

So on the first full day, after walkabout, it was off to the pub in early afternoon.  The first choice was not yet open for business, so we quickly chose another nearby that held the promise of soccer football.

Into the dark we went, and two men were seated at the bar and riveted to, of course, the football. One had a leonine mane of wavy hair and bright eyes and was the spitting image of Robert Plant.

It was Robert Plant. JMM is from Scotland and knowledgeable about football, so he sidled up to chat about the game while I stood, starstruck into paralysis, about five feet away.

Showco2JMM also is knowledgeable about All Things Rock and happened to be wearing the very Showco Sound T-shirt that apparently John Bonham made famous, and which Robert Plant remarked upon. Robert Plant’s only comment to me was to say it was nice to meet me, which was courteous but untrue since he so obviously wanted to watch the match.

We took our leave and moved to a nearby table.

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worth the wait

AUSTIN, Texas — I first heard of Alejandro Escovedo about 15 years ago. Stephen Bruton sang his praises, then the next thing I knew he was everywhere in the music press:  big names were headlining benefit concerts to assist him with long-term medical bills. He was a legendary figure in Austin circles and gaining notice for his solo work. And he remained on my List of Acts I’d Like to See.

So straight off the airplane, Goal #1 was to catch his 10 p.m. show at the Continental Club.

But that was 10 p.m. rock ‘n’ roll time. Our position in line was pretty good – probably among the first 20 people – but 10 p.m. was long ago, and we were still on the sidewalk. We heard Toni Price’s set, and hope sprang eternal when we heard Alejandro’s sound check.

And yet we waited.

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in training

My years in Nashville were when I was in peak form for live music consumption. I would see a band usually once a week, sometimes more. I built up my strength to my peak: 4 nights in one week. I think they may have been consecutive – but that taxed even me.

I reflect fondly on those days now that I consider it a triumph to make it to one show a month. But I must gear up!

I'm in the midst of four concerts in seven days. Ooh, I get a tingle just typing that. Last night was Elvis Costello, and I am going to see Nick Lowe and Wilco both nights they're in town. (Don't be a hater.) And then, Bryan Ferry (sigh) next Saturday night.

When it rains, it pours.

I've got to build up my stamina because I'm vacationing in Austin, Texas (which bills itself as the Live Music Capital of the World) at the end of October.  The whole point of the trip is to see as much live music as I can physically stand. Let the practice rounds begin.

conquering the urban jungle

Oh, the list of places to see is so long and the time is so limited.  The more I go and see, the more I find to explore. It’s a vicious circle.

And wouldn’t you know, on this particular day I had a morning activity and a nighttime activity in Atlanta. The wisest course of action was to spend the entire day in the city. It was an action-packed weekend, with all kinds of activities that I was not taking part in (music festival, Georgia Tech football, major golf tournament) but needed to navigate around. This was a happy challenge, but involved a crazy amount of planning – I had to take two outfits, I couldn’t take MARTA, and I had to find places to park all over the city. This is where my true country mouse roots are revealed: I hate trying to park in the city.

Somehow I came up with plenty to do in the hours between the mosque tour and the Elvis Costello concert.

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shared spaces

I went to a mosque for the first time today, courtesy of the Atlanta Preservation Center’s Sacred Spaces weekend.  The mosque, Al-Farooq Masjid, is located near Georgia Tech and IKEA, and from its grounds you can see the skyscrapers of Midtown.

The day was not what I had expected (or, in some ways, hoped) in that I thought there might be more explanation about mosque’s architectural features and meaning. We did, however, get a 90-minute overview of Islam from one of the mosque’s leaders, and I found him to be an excellent spokesman and very effective speaker.

The Atlanta Preservation Center (quickly becoming my favorite thing about Atlanta) did its usual quality job in preparing participants for the event. Women were advised to wear long sleeves, to cover their heads with a scarf, and everyone was told that we would take our shoes off.  We weren’t allowed to take photographs inside the masjid, but you can view some great shots on the mosque’s website.

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halftime show

Today I turn 44 years old, and if genetics and current medical science are any indication, my life is halfway done.

I’ve been thinking about this for the last few weeks, not in a sad or maudlin way, but rather in a “wow, that turned out pretty good” way. The last few years in particular have been very happy ones – but even my “worst” years to date have spoiled me.

I grew up in a Norman Rockwell painting. I have never known real want or true fear. I can count my regrets on one hand (and I try not to).

I knew all four of my grandparents. My parents love each other and are still together. My siblings are among my closest friends. I met my first nephew when he was just a few hours old. I’ve participated in the weddings of many special people. I wrote a couple things that ran on A-1 and got picked up by the national wire. I live and work with wonderful folks.

That would be enough for one half-lifetime, wouldn’t you agree?

But how about this highlights reel from the first half …

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get your game on

The Braves had a 4-game homestand this weekend, and that seemed just too convenient to miss, so I decided to spend a little time at Turner Field.  The game I chose turned out to be a losing one for the home team, the worst of the weekend for my favorite player, and one of the few that didn’t go into extra innings. But it also happened when the temperatures were lowest, and for that reason alone I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

I come from a very proud family of baseball lovers, and part of the pride stems from loving an underdog team – not, I repeat, NOT the Cubs – and claiming that fandom. When our family team, the Chicago White Sox, won it all in 2005, it was one of the highlights of my dad’s adult life. I am sure that years from now, my nephews will be able to recount in great detail that amazing October night. Even now it all seems surreal.

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marvelous midtown

Somehow the Georgia Tech bookstore has become a rite of passage for all my out-of-town guests. I’m not kidding – I am hard pressed to think of guests who I have not taken to the GT bookstore. A main reason is location: I know where it is and how to park there, and it’s a convenient place to meet if I’m coming in on MARTA. More importantly, it has books, a general crowd-pleaser. Perhaps even more compelling, it has a Starbucks. 

And so it was that JFA and I were there on Saturday morning. We sat outside, watched the world go by, caught up. I haven’t seen JFA in months – I mean, months. This may have been the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other while are living in the same country.  Some mornings when he was starting work in China, he would call me, who was wrapping up my workday in South Carolina. When I was in Northern Ireland, I would call him when I came home from work, which was the middle of his afternoon in the Midwest.

And even on the same continent, it’s just hard to find time. What a luxury to sit and listen and gab, about everything and nothing. He was willing to have lunch at an “upscale Southern” place I have been dying to try, and that  was wonderful.

Then we walked through Piedmont Park and agreed that we are not hot-weather people. Piedmont Park is beautiful, and it was fabulous  to see all the folks who were out for the jazz fest and farmer’s market and a sunny Saturday. 

I think it would be nice if I could import JFA every few Saturdays for Midtown adventures. I could not have spent a more wonderful day … even if a museum was not involved.

farewell oprah

I was in the live studio audience of "The Oprah Winfrey Show" once. Surprised? Me too.

Oprah-farewell My sister-in-law, her sister and cousin invited me along when they won two pairs of tickets. Yes, they dialed for weeks on end, a triple threat that hit the jackpot. I got to tag along.

I like Oprah. But being in the Oprah audience wasn't high on my life list. So more than a few times during the whole adventure, I wondered what all the Oprahmania was about. First off, it's true — you have to get up at an ungodly hour to stand on the street outside the Chicago studio.

Heard stories about a fabulous spread for all the guests as they wait to get into the studio? Don't believe it. There were vending machines, though. And lots of time to study them.

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