A note about La Casita

 This might be our last day in San Antonio, so I guess I should say something about La Casita, the little house on the West Side.

It all started when the Wise Woman came into a little money. She wanted a getaway, a place we could spend weekends and a place we could get away from storms. We’d spent decades in Galveston.

The Wise Woman initially said she wanted a cabin in the woods. When I pointed out that I liked the woods but she didn’t, she bought a little place in on the West Side, near the Produce Terminal.

It’s in the poorest ZIP Code in San Antonio. I learned that because competing political candidates both claimed to be from the poorest neighborhood in town. The Express-News checked the claims, and the candidate from our neighborhood proved right.

It’s a wonderful neighborhood. I have to speak my bad Spanish when I go buy tortillas or get my hair cut. It has mom-and-pop shops and cafes instead of chains. Many little places take only cash.

For three years, I did not see a “for sale” sign in the neighborhood. People around here tend to stay put. The family of one of my neighbors arrived in San Antonio in 1731.

The house itself was built in 1950. The Air Force was expanding in those days. A lot of laborers were making good money and bought modest houses in the area.

The house, five years older than I am, wasn’t in any better shape than I am. We decided to do a lot of the work ourselves, with the help of men and women who know what they’re doing.

For much of the work, the Wise Woman would find a YouTube video. I’d buy some tools and materials. It was a bit like getting stuck inside The Whole Earth Catalog.

It was a transformation. La Casita slowly began to look beloved, rather than bedraggled. And somewhere along the way, we decided the little weekend getaway was the place we wanted to be.

New adventures are calling. But one day, I want to write about La Casita. I need to do it justice.