Sadness Report: Baby the Cygnet...

When I first started this Blog almost a full year ago, one of the first writing assignments or "Reports" as I like to call them, took me to the beautiful neighborhood of Mission Trace. There, I met our Mission Trace Correspondent Sid Seidenberger and fellow resident and official photographer, Al Mozisek. During my first visit to Mission Trace, I was introduced to Baby, a Black Australian Swan or Cygnet, who was not only abandoned by her swan parents, but put in many dangerous situations as a result of their disfavor. I wrote a several reports about Baby and her progress, and in the mean time, Eva and I developed a friendship with our Mission Trace cohorts.

Today, I received the word that poor Baby has perished. I spoke to both of my friends just moments ago, and frankly, I can't possibly describe the loss as well as they have in the following note which they graciously have allowed me to post.

BABY, THE BELOVED SWAN OF MISSION TRACE

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It is with deep regret and a very sad heart that we write this.

There are so many unfortunate circumstances that we face in each of our lives. We are all somehow humanly bonded by the shared experience of a devastating loss of a person or thing quite dear to us. We almost all know that emotional pain that we feel in our hearts, the kind that wrenches us internally.

As many of you also know, there is a strong, almost human, connection between people and their pets. Pets are lovable, pets are playfully entertaining, and pets give their love to us unconditionally. They do not care if we are overweight, or balding, or shabbily dressed, or even have morning breath. Pets love us because they feel the love that we give them. Pets sense this loving loyalty, and it makes them come to us or even behave when they’re naughty. It’s such an endearing, reciprocal feeling. That is the reward and pleasure of a pet.

About a year ago, the pair of Australian black swans in the lake here in Mission Trace hatched a clutch of eggs, but only three hatchlings managed to survive and were taken away to the country so this trio of cygnets could escape their death by predators. Ultimately, only one female cygnet endured, so she was eventually reunited with her parents a few months later here in the Mission Trace lake. Her parents, however, did not accept her; they rejected her and regarded her as an enemy. She was a total stranger to the very parents who produced her. What a sad homecoming!

The rejected one had been named “Baby” during her early days in the country, and on her second day after being returned to the lake here in our city subdivision, she sought refuge from her unloving, aggressive momma and daddy at the back steps to our townhouse.

Just like a squatter, Baby claimed the back of the house as her new-found territory, constantly remained there, and grew from a shaking, shivering, crumple-feathered grey cygnet into a magnificent, majestic black swan. Truly, the ugly duckling transformation took place outside our back windows practically right before our eyes.

Baby was nurtured, Baby was loved, and yes, Baby was held and petted as much as possible because, unlike her aggressive parents, she had been hand-raised and probably, as a veterinarian once told me, felt as if she were part human. In a word, Baby was docile. She wouldn’t even flinch if migratory ducks or other fowl came to eat out of her little “Baby” bowl of hen scratch. She was not a fighter.

Pretty Baby was, in fact, a pampered pet of a fowl.

Little did she know (nor did we before we became so attached to her!) that her existence would become like living at the luxurious Waldorf Astoria, with her daily chopped lettuce luncheons served shortly after her feasting on a hearty bowl offowl-fortifying barley and maize for breakfast.

Each afternoon, Baby was personally escorted to the Mission Trace lake for her leisurely afternoon swim and peaceful, soothing time basking in the sun. (Momma and Daddy took a nap in the afternoon, so this very conveniently permitted Baby to relish her swim time, much the same way as some people savor their television soaps every day after lunch.)

Baby had her routine, and we respected it and accommodated it as best we could.For the last three or four months, Baby had begun taking a nocturnal dip. She would love encircling the fountain in the lake, with her black plumage glistening like diamonds as she was drenched by the beaming moonlight and the gentle spray of the fountain.

Sometimes, when the grain and the lettuce we offered her left her longing for more, she’d sit in the lake chomping down algae with frequent beak dipping sips of water to wash it all down.

Times were available for Baby to enjoy life in the water even though she had to put up with the frustration of her mean, vicious parents. Baby always managed to escape them because she was younger, and she was faster on land than they were.

This past Monday night on St. Patrick’s Day, we looked at Baby taking her usual midnight meandering into the moonlit lake. Little did we know that her hours were numbered.

Tragically, during the night, Baby was dragged and savagely killed by what we assume were coyotes or perhaps raccoons. Beholding the sight of her ravaged, mangled body and the trail of her shiny black feathers she shed in her fight against her foes was a paralyzing discovery this morning. Why, oh why did it have to happen to Baby?

Maybe Baby’s docile nature was her ultimate downfall that probably led to her death. Baby was sweet and gentle, but sadly, in the harsh world of nature, sweet and gentle means vulnerable. That is just bitter and brutal reality of life in the animal kingdom.

For the past fourteen months, Baby brought us love, Baby brought Mission Trace new life to the lake, and quite certainly, Baby stole our hearts.

We truly are devastated by this loss, needless to say.

Who would ever have guessed that an orphaned cygnet would waddle in from the lake to become our cherished pet? I never in my life imagined holding and cuddling a black swan, much less a pet dog!
Australian black swans are by nature very aggressive and even dangerous. They have been known to break a man’s arm with their powerful wings.

But not Baby, not our dear Little Baby! Her untimely death has left us all broken-hearted.

May you rest in peace, Baby. We will all miss you. Never again will we be able to look at the lake without remembering Baby

Final Note

Baby was buried under a massive oak tree by which she strolled every day making her way to the water. She was laid to rest in one of her plastic swim tubs, which she had outgrown as she quickly matured. We somewhat likened it to a baby crib, a kind of water bed… or maybe her own personal pool, which we filled with fresh water each day. Her “coffin” is actually a storage bin …and the lid now respectfully covers her remains as she lies there eternally by the lake.

Mission Trace will be placing a final resting place marker over Baby’s grave. From our back windows, we will be able to see this spot to remember the joy Baby brought everyone in the short time she was here.

Al Mozisek

Sid Seidenberger

Baby

February 13, 2007 – March 16, 2008

Sid's Christmas Extravaganza: Enough Spirit for All of Us...

I shan't bore you with the unsavory details, but my wife has long considered me to be a Grinch when it comes to Christmas. I confess readily that, though I like the idea of giving gifts and certainly appreciate a stuffed stocking and Christmas dinner, I don't seem to share the same excitement that I did as a child. I do enjoy the watching The Movie every year, but suffice it to say, guilty as charged; I'm not a real Christamsy kinda guy.

But my friend Sid, known here as our Mission Trace Correspondent, and proud Papa of Baby, the Australian Swan, is totally into the Christmas spirit, so much so that my wife and I dropped in to inspect his hard work and creative touch in decorating for the season. First, I do get occasional e-mails asking about Baby, so here she is, all grown up. She is doing fine and Sid reports that since Baby's father has been "fixed" he is not as aggressive toward her. Everyone seems a bit happier in Mission Trace as a result. Onto the festive decorations. You have to appreciate anyone who has not one, but multiple Christmas trees, and places them throughout the home. I mean, I think my wife gets into it by going all out in our living room and dining room. Sid has his place decked out! I submit that anyone can run into Wal Mart and grab some festive decorations for the house and slap them on a coffee table; it takes a real artisan to design and hand craft the array of festive displays that Sid has produced. My wife was simply impressed with his skilled use of a glue gun and wired ribbons and of course the eye for different themes suitable for the style in the home. I enjoyed the display of ornaments and statues including a shelf full of Santa's of all design. One particular Santa is a clown helping a little girl decorate a tree. Very festive and in fact, a collector's item for sure. You can see the creative eye in fashioning his fireplace mantel with bulbs and such - we thought it had somewhat of a Russian flavor to it. Honestly, Sid has left no room in the home without at least some form of fun Christmas decor. In fact, even the restroom had a festive display - perfect for when you are standing there taking a pee. How Jolly is that? We had a great visit and in spite of all the Christmas cheer, I must tell you, there were no threats to bust into caroling. For that, I was glad.

Looking for fun? Consider a Play in San Marcos...

This is sort of a public service announcement for those of you seeking something entertaining to do this weekend...

My good friend Sid, our Mission Trace Correspondent and often caretaker of Baby the Swan, reports that his niece Lindsay is currently appearing in a stage production of Oscar Wilde's THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST at the Mainstage Theater at Texas State University.

Interested but not sure what it might be about? Well, according to the web page, "Oscar Wilde's comedic masterpiece satirizes English society in the late Victorian era. The plot follows the exploits of two wealthy young men who pretend their names are Ernest in order to impress their beloveds. One, Jack Worthing, is a foundling and cannot marry his love until he produces an acceptable parent. His future mother-in-law, Lady Bracknell, tells him, "To lose one parent, Mr. Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness." Audiences have loved this play since it opened in 1895, and many critics consider it the wittiest play in the English language."

Unfortunately, my wife and I can't make it but in the event that you feel the need for a little comedy and/or culture, get up there and cheer young Lindsay on. And, if you see an Australian Black Swan wandering around in the parking lot, look for Sid!

Baby Update: Possible Cygnet Eviction

I received a rather unsettling e-mail from our Mission Trace Correspondent, Sid Seidenberger this afternoon. It seems that Baby, the Australian Black Swan who resides in the lake at Mission Trace may be in a little hot water.

According to Sid, he had been out of town and "Baby went to the next-door neighbor's patio and shit on their Terra Cotta tile. One thing led to another and the neighbor was forced to build a barricade to keep Baby from making defacatory deposits".

He says, "Next thing you know, their HOA Grounds Chair receives a bitchin' from the disgruntled neighbors and a call is made to a supposed "swan expert", who says that the parent swans (now nesting AGAIN with 5 eggs) will eventually kill baby."

Clearly unhappy about this, Sid continues, "Long story short, I must go before the Board on Thursday night and make an appeal to them. 80% of the board members HATE the swans. It looks as if Baby will be doin' her swan song and saying so-long because the Grounds Chair said, "It's the Board's decision".

I talked to Sid a short while ago and he tells me that he has been doing research and making calls to various vets and water fowl experts all day long, and sadly, there does seem to be some consensus that the situation is not good. It would be nice if some swan relief agency was available to take Baby in and get her relocated to a better environment.

Does anyone have any suggestions? Anyone know of any swan experts who might have an idea? My wife is calling a few folks who know something about bird sanctuary's etc., but if you have any words of wisdom or assistance, give me a quick e-mail or leave a comment here.

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Reader Report: Mission Trace Update

Though I'm not overwhelmed by bags from the US Postal service full of cards and letters from adoring fans like some kind of Willard Scott with a wish for GrandPa's 100th birthday, I do enjoy reading the hand full of e-mails I receive from people who happen upon my little space on The Web. One such writer, our Mission Trace correspondent, Sid Seidenberger, continues to read the blog, even after meeting my wife and I in person - is he a glutton for punishment or what? Possibly motivated by our weekend adventure in tiling, Sid reports that he did some yard work of his own.

He told me that he attempted to plant three impatiens he "...bought at Wal-Mart in containers inscribed "Gardening for Dummies"... I'm not kidding!", but it seems his efforts were foiled when he uncovered a gigantic nest of red wasps in the process.

Sid says, "They had covertly built a nest in the plant in a red terra cotta pot which I needed to use for one of my "Dummy Gardener" vibrant red impatiens." Red seems to be a recurrent chromatic theme out at Mission Trace.

He continues, "As I removed the existing plant, I instinctively recoiled when I saw this alarming swarm about my adrenalin-rushed red face. Instantly, I thought I had some killer bees after me and was facing certain death. I yelled some deadly profanities and ran as fast as I could from these abominable stealth bombers! I had unknowingly disturbed them, and they were fighting mad!"

Miraculously for Sid, not one of those little buggers bit him, and I suspect they will regret not getting in a few licks while they could. Because next stop is, where else but HEB, "to buy some product to kill 'em dead. I'll play "exterminator," armed with my aerosol spray and pray the buzzing bastards don't bite me as I try to decimate them."

We can all agree that aside from a perhaps a kick to the gems, nothing hurts more than wasp/yellow jacket stings, especially ones on the face. Sid tells me he was lucky in the first encounter, so he'll be extra careful that he doesn't wind up getting stung and becoming a swollen and numbed "dummy gardener."

"Believe me," he reports, "you won't be getting any close -up pictures of this no-good, nasty nest of dreaded red wasps from this Mission Trace correspondent!"

C'mon Sid, you know pictures work best!

"All I wanted to do is add a little color here and there, and see what happened to my efforts? I love Mother Nature, but not when she sends evil forces to invade my garden. I just knew she'd make me pay for all that rain she nuturingly bestowed upon us recently here in San Antonio."

Yea, tell me about it. Did you see my beloved pop-up awning that Mother Nature did a number on?

Sid continues, "Everything is lush and green now, so I guess I shouldn't complain about benevolent Mother Nature's cruel, biting, ... and stinging evil twin. One just has to take the good with the bad."

Sid had told me about issues with the roof on his town home. In spite of the much needed injection of greenery he says, "...that still doesn't make me feel any better about my roof leaking after the latest rainstorm we had! Bad Mother Nature! Bad girl! She boosts the spirits of landscapers with a verdant paradise, she replenishes and elevates our Edwards Aquifer levels and gives local meteorologists Bill Taylor (KENS-5), Jennifer Broome (WOAI-TV), and Steve Browne (KSAT-12). something to track and yak about ... and raises my high blood pressure!"

I know what you mean, Sid.

Sid finishes his report with these kind words; "By the way, your patio tile work looks great. I don't have the patience to do that type of thing, plus I'd probably need back surgery after its completion, or I'd uncover a nest of venomous snakes or something in the process. I would definitely have to read "Tiling for Dummies" if there is such a thing! To be quite honest, I'd be dialing for tiling experts..."

Yes sir, hard work indeed. And Mother Nature (or those aforementioned TV weather folk) lured us into quite a pickle, but it was all good for a laugh.

"I truly admire both you and Eva for your "weekend warrior" home improvements effort. You are a true HGTV couple!"

"Tile" next time...

Baby Update: Sid and the Empty Nesters

We haven’t had a Baby update since the original story (here) and in talking with our Mission Trace correspondent, Sid Seidenberger, There have been quite a few recent developments.

I’m happy to say that many of Sid’s neighbors enjoyed the story of Baby and her parents, and I thank you for taking the time to check in to my little place on the web.

As for the “Evil Duo”, Sid reports “they still lurk in the offing always at the ready to attack their trespassing offspring, who, unbeknownst to them, is their own flesh (feathers?) and blood. So sad, so very sad."

A few weeks ago, Sid told me that Baby has sought refuge from the relentless sun under his back steps to the Mission Trace Lake. Recently, he noticed that Baby has a roommate under the steps with her. He said, “Somehow a large white female duck has decided to nest under there, and she has deposited one egg and is working on another! Poor Baby is perplexed by this intruder and is harmlessly biting at this duck a-laying. The duck doesn't budge from her nest; Baby persists in protecting "her territory"; so only time will tell which fowl will prevail.”

I think Sid has really taken on the duties as Swan-Daddy. I mentioned to Sid how my wife and I are currently operating as “empty-nesters” the goal of every parent (hopefully). He told me that his sister and brother-in-law, Monica and Jim Hicks of Grand Lake Estates in Montgomery, Tx, are going through a similar experience. And as we find out, perhaps Sid is feeling a little of that parental uneasiness with Baby.

Sid compares Baby’s first night out of her cage to his Nephew Jake’s first night away from home and his parents. You may recall that our little Cygnet friend was staying in a cage to protect her from raccoons and such. Sid reports that the nervousness he had for Baby (being out on her own) made him feel for his sister and her husband. Their 17 year-old son Jake (Sid’s nephew) is off to Rice University, where he has a full ride football scholarship. How nice is that!

Because the Rice Owls have started their practices, and the players are enrolled in summer session courses, Jake was off to camp. According to his proud Uncle Sid, “Jake has never gone away to camp, left the nurturing comfort of his loving home for any extended stay, or strayed for any length of time from the safe environs of his familial surroundings.” Jake is 6 feet 5 inches tall, weighs in at 270 pounds, and has to buy size 16 shoes; I suspect he’ll be okay. He will literally be a "big man" on campus!

In the meantime, after her first night out of the cage, Sid found Baby under the back steps and was relieved that she was fine other than for having to contend with her "guest on the nest." But that relief has only been short-lived.

Last week, Sid told me about an incident that gave Baby, the duck, and everyone in slithering distance a little scare! Turns out that the eggs Baby’s new duck friend laid attracted a reptilian guest. Sid says “Jorge, the landscape crew foreman here, rushed to our back steps here in under three minutes after we called the security officer at the gate to report another "intruder" of sorts! Jorge managed to apprehend the culprit... a 7 ft. Texas Rat Snake that was in the process of devouring a duck egg!”

According to former Mission Trace HOA Grounds Committee Chairperson, Mrs. Jo Huff, "This enormous snake had been eating all the duck eggs being laid in the past few years." This seems to be why the Mission Trace duck population has been dwindling, all due to this enormous 7 ft. demon devouring all potential hatches. In speaking with other Mission Trace residents, Sid learned that many people had seen this snake before and knew it inhabited the neighborhood.

Let's hope nephew Jake won’t have to worry about Rats at Rice, though in fairness, his older sister Lindsay may have to contend with a few snakes since she attends Texas State University... Just kidding!

At any rate, just like the proud parents Monica and Jim are "empty-nesters", I think Sid can understand the anxieties parents face because, as a proud Swan-Daddy he knows that Baby has grown, and in spite of the known and unknown dangers out there, he has to learn to let her go.

Sid tells me that, “With the demise of this slithering serpent, Baby's life is back to normal. She had her feathers ruffled by that intrusive, no good, egg-gobblin' dirty rat snake, but life on the lake is once again leisurely and serene for her. Now Baby's only fowl foes are her mama and daddy, who reject her daily and prevent her from taking a truly peaceful swim as they patrol the lake more vigilantly than the Selma cops with their infamous IH-35 speed-trap of yesteryear!”

Bonus for the reference to Selma! In the end my wife and I gave up the weekend as empty-nesters and headed up to Wichita Falls to see our daughter. I’ll have a full report on our wonderful, event-filled adventure soon.

How did you spend your Father’s Day? See any snakes? Tell me about it.

A Cygnet Named Baby

Sid Seidenberger, our Mission Trace correspondent, enjoyed the pictures of my funny dogs Gracie & Panda and told me about an interesting pet he has adopted, named Baby. He referred to Baby as a Cygnet, and not being familiar with that particular nomenclature, I must confess that I had to do some quick Google action to find out just what sort of critter he had. I’ll spare you the details of my research, but if you find yourself in a Discovery Channel state of mind, you might start here.

Before I get to Baby though, I think it is fascinating how the small neighborhood of Mission Trace, like other older gated communities, seem to carve out a sanctuary of sorts for their residents, when just on the other side of the fence is all the hustle and bustle of a fast-paced and continuously growing and congested environment.

Like many of my fellow Silver Creek and Great Northwest neighbors who drive up Culebra Road every afternoon, I often wonder if all the traffic is worth it. So as I drove down Wurzbach and on Vance Jackson at the height of rush hour to get to Mission Trace, I had similar thoughts about the sense of living in such a congested area.

Those questions ceased as soon as the guard lifted the entry gate into Mission Trace. Surrounded by trees and walls that make the traffic on Vance Jackson disappear behind you, the small tree-lined lake to the right immediately catches your attention. The only distraction to the lake was a well-placed sign emphasizing the need to be cautious for the swans. As I drove in, I saw a duck casually sitting on a bench as though he was waiting for a bus or something.

The point is that just as I find the comfort of my home and my neighborhood to be worth the short drive up Culebra, I suspect the residents of Mission Trace soon forget about the bumper-to-bumper traffic navigated through to arrive in their little piece of heaven. And I’m willing to bet that wherever Baby’s parents came from to land in the small body of water in Mission Trace, they felt the flight was worth it. And that’s where Baby’s story begins.

I spoke with Sid and his friend Al, also a resident of Mission Trace, and they told me how the parents, Australian Black Swans had a small nest of babies, or cygnets as the young swans are called. The enemies of these young cygnets are turtles and hawks, both prevalent around the lake, and soon it became clear to residents of the area that the little babies would not survive.

Fearing for their safety, the property manager for the local HOA removed the cygnets from the predators around the lake when the Cop and Pen (the parents) could not protect them. Unfortunately, Baby’s two siblings did not survive.

Fast forward to a month or so ago and a now much larger but still immature Baby as she was named by the manager, was released to learn to live and enjoy the same peaceful solitude of the lake that human inhabitants of the area enjoy. But, Mother Nature, the prankster she can often be, gives the Australian Black Swan an apparent short memory. And without the standard baby-swan passport photo or the equivalent of those school year books that show your child growing from a toddler to an adult in 12 short years of public school, these poor swans had no idea who Baby was.

Worse, because some swans don’t feel at all icky about incest, and apparently others do, the parents took this new strange cygnet as a threat to the marriage. Sid reports that in one fowl exchange (sorry), Papa Swan “bit Baby's tail and shook her whole body like an old kitchen rug being shaken free of dust on the back porch. It scared the hell out of Baby...and me.”

So now, Baby has to be caged at night (conveniently beneath the picture window of Sid’s home, overlooking the lake), and she has to have water tubs from which to drink and slosh around in. Lettuce and seed come hand delivered at this point but I suspect she will learn to scrounge around the lake for vittles before too long.

What surprised me the most about meeting Baby was that she has taken to Sid’s voice and presence. When I asked if we could get close enough for a few happy-snaps, Sid simply wandered outside, called for her and picked her up as though she was a little puppy. When Al and I approached to get a better look, Baby tucked her beak in-between Sid’s protective arm and chest, though she looked up occasionally to see if we were still gawking at her. After a few nervous moments of introductions, Sid let Baby down and she wandered down toward the lake.

In addition to her estranged parents watching from a distance on the other side of the small lake, there was an egret not far from us contemplating his next move as occasional sprinkles of rain approached. Baby seemed fine dipping her feet into the water as long as we stood by, but I suspect she knew as well as Sid that once we retreated back to the house, the aggressive parents would not be nearly as standoffish.
Later, from the incredible view indoors looking out, Baby fled the pleasant water of the lake with her Springer-like parents in hot pursuit. Sid has a sense of Baby’s speed and was confident though visibly nervous about her ability to make it to the safety of her cage. Once on land and headed toward the house, the parents ceased the chase of the last of their offspring, with no idea on earth that only a season earlier, they had hatched the little cygnet.

In a few more months, Baby ought to make a pretty good centerpiece come Thanksgiving time. And with that, we were hopeful that Baby would survive this season, and the next.

Note: Thanks to Photographer Al for additional photos of Baby and her parents.

Sid Reports: Fiesta Flambeau

Our correspondent Sid Seidenberger writes about his trip with friends to this year’s Fiesta Flambeau, proving that being a schoolteacher can sometimes have quite a Fiesta Bonus!

It has been years since I last attended the Fiesta Flambeau night parade, but this year a couple of good friends, Patti and Al, both from Mission Trace, and I decided to go.

As veterans of many parades, we had the drill down pat: comfortable shoes, shorts, festive shirts, and adventurous Fiesta spirits (lively enthusiasm, that is, not libations, of course!).

The three of us are quite left-brained, concrete- sequential type personalities, and this was more or less (probably more) a spontaneous decision to attend the parade. In the past, I have attended the Fiesta parades and enjoyed viewing them from seats I had bought months earlier, as expected of a man with a plan left-brainer. This year, we had no seats, had no idea where we'd wind up in the parade route, no idea where we'd park, and still we bravely set out to make our way to the Fiesta parade with the largest attendance of all according to the records. (It must be hard counting heads from that helicopter hovering above the parade spectators!)

Traveling from Mission Trace and then down Interstate-10 to downtown was a breeze... until we hit we hit the Interstate-35 North exit. It was " worse back" up than "Wurzbach" traffic, to which we are daily accustomed to battling. We quickly averted the traffic cluster by staying on IH-10 until we made it to the Durango exit, which was also clogged by parade bound motorists, so we exited at the next intersection, did a turn-around, and made our way into the downtown area via Flores Street.

Once we made it to the area by Fox Tech High School, we encountered parking lot after parking lot with frown inducing entrance signs stating: LOT FULL. Ready to almost give up, we had a great idea! Why not valet park at the lot of one of the high-end, upscale downtown hotels (which shall remain nameless for obvious reasons)? Yes! Problem solved! You see, there are some fringe benefits to being a teacher; I have several former students working at this unnamed hotel as guest parking attendants, so they have always told me they will "hook me up" with parking anytime needed. If ever I needed one single, solitary slot in which to park, it was on this evening of ubiquitous LOT FULL signs.

Patti, Al, and I walked away from the valet parking entry of the hotel, and I felt as privileged as King Antonio himself, having handed over my keys and car to my former student, who was so pleased to accommodate us. I felt like a V.I.P. getting my car parked among the other Official Fiesta Vehicles. Of course I had no signs like these on my car, only the usual pings, dings, and scratches.

Having successfully parked, Patti, Al, and I realized the next hurdle to jump was finding either bleacher seats or street chairs. The thought of standing for an entire parade is not appealing, so we questioned every parade usher (easy to spot because of the lime green baseball caps supplied by the Fiesta Commission) as to the possibility of purchasing seats. We kept getting the response "all sold out,” so we were resigned to the fact that we would be standing!

Then we came upon a section of street seats unoccupied and figured we'd just sit down until the ticket holders arrived. As we began to shimmy down the row, a brightly fiesta attired lady with a flower and ribbon head wreath, looked puzzlingly at us as we sat, and she said these seats were hers. We were caught red-handed and red faced, but she quickly assured us that it was not a problem because her guests were not able to attend. She asked if we wished to purchase the seats, we said indeed we did, and then we were able to rightfully sit in the chairs with tickets in our possession!

Relieved to be legally seated, the Mission Trace trio felt victorious in acquiring not only primo parking but also choice chairs in the second row! What luck! With this winning track record for the evening, what could possibly go wrong?

It seemed an eternity before the parade actually made its way to our location on Third Avenue between Broadway and Alamo. As we waited, the kindly lady who sold us her extra seats took out a big blue zippered picnic tote, opened it, and was handing her family members foil wrapped tacos. Jokingly, I asked her if the tacos came with the purchase price of our seat tickets. She laughed, her lace lit up with a big grin, and the next thing I knew, her son (seated next to me) handed me three tacos, salsa, and napkins. Overcome with surprise, I looked down the row at this gracious lady who smiled at me. She said, "Please enjoy them. Happy Fiesta!" We quickly devoured the delicious, tasty tacos and gave our thanks not only for the seats, but also the treats!

Finally, the parade commenced with the motorcycle cops heralding its beginning. Shortly thereafter, the usual dignitaries including Mayor Hardberger and King Antonio came waving at the spectators. Suddenly we heard loud hollering and thunderous applause for the Grand Marshal, the one and only heart throb of "Dancing with the Stars" and the former star of "Saved by the Bell"... Mario Lopez!

The usual fiesta parade floats followed super Mario with queens and princesses, marching bands, twirlers, dancers, and lots of frustratingly long lulls.... and then a drenching downpour! Yes, there was a dark cloud over our auspicious experience, the heavens opened up, and happy parade revelers scrambled as fast as their fleet-footed Fiesta feet could carry them to seek cover from the rain.

Mother Nature drew a quick, unexpected close to the 2007 Fiesta Flambeau Parade. She reigned over the evening as the most powerful of all the Fiesta queens that night, but she did not dampen the indomitable spirit of San Antonio.

The Mission Trace trio trekked our way through the infernal puddles left by the showers and amidst the trash and rubble left by the crowds and headed back to the hotel parking lot. We were disappointed that the rain ended our Fiesta fun, but we were still talking about the touching generosity and thoughtfulness of the real queen of the event, the lovely flower and ribbon wreath crowned lady who sold us her extra tickets and fed us, too. There are still truly nice people left in this world!

Do you have a Fiesta event to report? Feel free to e-mail me.