Memories of Roby

It was the month of May in 1960. I would soon be graduating from Roby High School. For the past two and a half years I had been living in Roby with my sister, my brother-in-law, and their three children. I was excited to be graduating and ready to move on to whatever the future held for me. I left Roby for Borger, Texas a couple of days after graduation, not exactly the big city but certainly larger than Roby. Sometime that same summer my sister, brother-in-law, and their children also moved away from Roby.

It was the month of June in 1980. I had been away from Roby for twenty years but made the trip from my home near Houston for the twenty-year reunion. It was an afternoon coffee, punch, and cookies type get together. I recognized most everyone who was there. After all didn't we all want to hear "oh, you don't look a day older". Little white lies are okay for the twenty year reunions. I was nervous because I was probably the only one who hadn't been back for twenty years. As I drove into Roby on that beautiful summer afternoon, I caught myself thinking, "I could never live here again". The town had always been small but I just never realized how small it really was. I visited with former classmates for awhile and drove back to the hotel in Abilene; not sure I would ever go back there. It was good to see them but I no longer had relatives anywhere near Roby. I had only gone to school there for two and a half years so I didn't think I had put down any roots. I did know the short time I had spent there gave me some of the best memories of my teen years.

It was the month of June in 1990. I looked at the announcement for the thirty-year reunion. I found myself thinking, "I really want to go". At that point in my life I needed to retrieve some of those teenage memories. So once again I headed out toward Abilene where I would spend the night. As I drifted off to sleep that night, I wondered if I would recognize my former classmates and if they would remember me. After all only ten years had passed since I had last attended a reunion. I was a little nervous as I walked into the room that Saturday morning and only recognized a few people. Someone walked up to me and saw that I seemed to be a little lost. He said, "you don't remember me do you". I said "of course I do" but he knew I had no clue as to who he was. When he told me who he was I almost said "no you're not", but caught myself and said, "well, you haven't aged a bit". He said "you haven't either" and we both knew the little white lies were alive and well. All of our teenaged faces had turned middle aged and extra pounds were concealing our teenage bodies. The skilled hands of our hairdressers had hid most of our gray hair. Glasses now sat upon noses and helped us to see each other in a different light. We were Middle America dressed in new clothes. Some of us had our traveling bags underneath our eyes and on our hips. We came from far and near. We came to renew old friendships, to see who had aged well, and to see who had, well, aged. Some didn't come because they didn't want to, some didn't come because of other obligations, and some couldn't come and never would be able to.

I drove around the back roads toward Sweetwater after the reunion. I had gone to school in Sweetwater from fourth grade through eighth grade. As I drove along I saw a windblown landscape with swirling dust. I saw sunflowers towering like giant daisies along the roadside. Tumbleweeds danced across the fields like giant dust balls underneath a blanket of blue sky. Anorexic mesquite trees stood with just a shadow of shade. I saw terraced fields looking like old men with humps on their backs. I stopped in front of what used to be Liberty Baptist Church. I had spent many happy Sundays in that church. It was now filled with hay and cattle were grazing in the churchyard. A tear escaped and ran down my cheek. The blue sky gave way to a fast moving rain shower. That shower gave my sense of smell the cleanest scent I had smelled in years. I began to realize the few years I had spent in the Roby area had bound me to that area with some unseen heartstrings. I didn't want to leave.

The year is 1999 and once again I have relatives in Roby. My brother-in-law and my sister bought his parents' house, renovated it and retired to Roby. I worried about them when they decided to move back because I thought they needed to be closer to a large city. Last February I drove up to visit them. As I drove into Roby I felt such a peaceful feeling. Finally I realized why they had gone back there. It is home.

I have lived in South Texas for over thirty five years but sometimes I catch myself looking at the stars and remembering how close those stars seemed underneath the West Texas sky. I look out my kitchen window at the towering oak trees and the lush green vegetation in my back yard. And I remember. I remember how good the shade of a skimpy mesquite tree felt on a hot summer day. I remember looking across the landscape and being able to see for miles and miles. I remember sandstorms and snowstorms. I remember the good years for the cotton farmers when their fields looked like they had been spread with great white blankets. I remember the not so good years when the blanket of white never opened, as it waited for the rains that never came. I remember the people who are the heart and soul of Roby. South Texas is my home but Roby has my heart.