My little eye

Seen, in the crowd spilling out of Scholz's biergarten before yesterday's game: a frat brother Trey's hasn't talked to in years. "We used to go to the Broken Spoke," Trey says, adding quickly, "long before you came on the scene, find the two tallest girls in the place and dance with 'em all night long."

Seen, in the crowd spilling out of Memorial Stadium after the game: a friend of ours from the Houston years, and his daughter, now a junior at Texas. With some prompting, we remembered attending his wedding. We traded tales of old times, then exchanged contact information and promises to stay in touch.

Seen, below our hotel window this morning: the Veterans Day parade, streaming slowly down Congress Avenue. Included: flags of every size, many motorcycles, marching bands, a crew of Corvettes, a fire engine (preceded by a curious Dalmatian), bagpipers, and troops: soldiers, past and present, and scouts, all sorts.

Seen, outside our ground-level window at breakfast: much of the parade and its spectators, winding their way back home; the thrilled face of a valet, inspecting a ten-dollar tip; a surprising number of mixed marriages, with one spouse clad in red and black and the other still wearing last night's burnt orange. What's their breakfast conversation like, I wonder? Ours is happy and easy and quiet. Too quiet: it's time to fetch the muppers.

Seen, just before we leave town: all things musical at our favorite Austin outpost. We grab as much as we can carry before we hit the road in my mom's Jeep.

Seen, shortly after we arrive at our meeting point, halfway between us and them: the three most beautiful kiddos I've ever seen, with enormous grins on their faces and their arms outstretched. Also: their weary Nana and uncle.

Seen, rolling below our patio table at the Gristmill: the Guadalupe River.

Seen, after a large lunch: a brief but satisfying snippet of my first-ever show at Gruene Hall. The muppers refuse to comply with my request to dance, but that leaves the planked floor open for others to gracefully twirl and step in time to the music.

Seen, once we've said our good-byes and buckled the muppers into their seats: an enormous blue Texas sky stretching up and out and oh-so-wide.

Seen, shortly after that: the backs of my eyelids, for a little while.

Seen, just on the horizon, well after the sun has set and the muppers have been placated with their favorite movie and the final credits have run and they have just begin to completely lose their cool: the Bank of America building, glowing green, which means that Dallas is within reach.

Seen, after a few twists and turns: our house. In the middle of our street. Our house: it's our castle and our keep.

Goodnight, all...