Today’s song of the day Carlos Santana – Samba pa Ti
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 | Santana – Samba pa ti |  |
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 | Found at skreemr.com |  |
Today’s picture of the day is one that I had wanted to make for years.
Where I grew up, there was a place called “Texas Lane.” It was on the other side of the river, and a different world away from the rest of my town.
- There was no trash pickup. Guys in a pickup would show up every now and then and haul it away.
- There was no law. The police would’t come out. If something happened, you were on your own.
- A snow cone vendor would show up a few times a week. He had flavors foreign to most people: leche, tamarindo, and coco.
- Everyone grew, harvested, and ate nopales (prickly pear cactus.)
- Everyone had a lemon tree.
- People actually believed in the cucui and la chusa
- The streets were not paved. The roads consisted of fine river soil, and huge river boulders.
- The citrus train would rumble through several times a day. You knew you were a real chicano when you could sleep through the train.
Texas Lane is where i spent my summers, and most any other weekend i could talk my parents into, as this is where my grandma chata lived. Right next door was my best friend, David.
I haven’t spent the night on Texas lane for maybe 25 years, but I can still smell the water flowing in the creek, the river rocks scattered through the yards, and the citrus that seemed to bloom constantly.
Texas Lane is one of those places that I think will always exist in my mind exactly how it was when I was 8, and days lasted forever. A time when summer vacation was an incredible gift from the gods.
I recently got in touch with David again, after twenty something years. It’ nice to know that there is someone out there in this world who also grew up on texas lane. Someone who, when they hear the name, conjures up days of exploration, and nights of hiding from the cucui.
The bridge in this photo is the bridge that separated Texas Lane from the rest of the world.
The song is a song i discovered while staying there one summer, fastidiously studying each and every album in my uncle Paul’s record collection.
