My Aunt Elaine and Uncle Dale were a special part of my childhood. Elaine was my mom’s sister, and since my dad didn’t have any brothers or sisters, they were the only aunt and uncle I had. They lived out of town and never had kids of their own, which gave them a kind of independence that felt unusual to me. Holidays were when they usually came around, and their visits always carried a certain shine.
In the summers of 1973 and 1974, while my parents took trips to the Caribbean and The Virgin Islands, my sister and I stayed with Elaine and Dale. To us, it felt like being handed over to another world. They liked nice things, especially nice restaurants and they were always members of a country club. One evening they took us to a restaurant called Vargo’s in Houston, a restaurant so fancy there weren’t even menus. The waiter simply recited the night’s offerings. I remember trying to keep up, afraid I’d forget the choices before he finished. For a boy from Saint Louis, it felt like stepping into another life.
But it wasn’t all dinners and formality. They made sure we saw what Houston had to offer. A day at the beach in Galveston, where the waves pulled at my feet and I could taste the salt on my lips. A whirlwind afternoon at Astroworld, running from rides until we could hardly catch our breath. A ballgame at the Astrodome, that unique stadium that seemed larger than anything I’d ever known.
Elaine and Dale treated us wonderfully, as if we were their own children. And yet, I felt the absence of my parents. By the end of the week, I was ready for them to come home. When they finally did, I realized how much I’d missed them. That time with Elaine and Dale gave me memories I still treasure, but it also deepened my appreciation for the simple comfort of home. No matter how dazzling Houston felt, nothing compared to being back on Limerick Drive, where the world was smaller and where I belonged (at least for the moment). And looking back now, I see that Elaine and Dale, in their own way, helped shape that understanding—
