Burbsters in the Big City

One more trip back in time. Today we met up with Jackie, a kind and welcoming former classmate, who gave us a tour of the new and improved Trinity Christian Academy. I had a serious feeling of déjà vu as I raced down Addison road, late to school, the same way I did for years. No matter that we had nothing planned until 12:45—still can’t make it on time!

When I started there in 1980, the school had existed for exactly 10 years. The campus was 6 years old, and sort of in the middle of nowhere, North Dallas. My graduating class would have had 75 but for one kid who got expelled at the last minute.  Now the classes have about 120 each, and most have waiting lists as they did back in the 80s.

They’ve added a new high school building, and then added on again to that. There’s a new elementary building. There’s an additional middle school building, an additional cafeteria, and an additional auditorium. The arts program is booming. It’s much more diverse than it was when I was there. And it has a busy hive of volunteer parents running all sorts of things.

One of the biggest changes is the intense competition they face. Prestonwood Baptist Church, the church I described based on our attendance of the Easter service, started a school a few years back as well. This is not so far from Trinity, and Prestonwood certainly shares the target demographic. It has emerged as the fiercest competitor in athletics and in recruitment of students. I’ve noticed that there are tons more schools in the area than when I lived here. Meanwhile, our old rival First Baptist Academy, has shrunk considerably.

And no one takes a helicopter to school anymore, like that one girl who landed in the empty field every morning, thrilling the little kids I had to carpool with. They can’t; the empty field across the street is no longer empty. Plus I’m not sure that Trinity has the same level of wealth that it had in the mid-80s. Certainly it is still a wealthy private school, but perhaps on a more average level of wealthy?

Some things that haven’t: The uniforms. While the skirts have gotten shorter, the plaid remains the same. The parents still like having them and the kids still hate wearing them. Also, my brother’s name is still immortal. His basketball MVP plaque for his senior year and his team’s trophy for taking state in their conference are still proudly displayed in the trophy case.

I saw no sign of my 3^rd place honors in the science fair in 8^th grade, but I did manage to snag a spot in the class composite picture, along with anyone who ever graduated from TCA. I guess it’s only fair, as Dave worked hard at basketball, but I sort of cheated at the science fair. In 7^th grade I noticed all the winning science projects had something to do with plants, so in 8^th grade I devised a project that involved plants. And thereby won the only trophy I’ve ever managed to get my hands on. So proud.

I said goodbye to Jackie, who managed to make me feel at home in spite of all of the awkwardness involved in revisiting this place. She even re-introduced me to Mrs. Nixon, a great teacher who I particularly appreciated because she was one of the few teachers who ever gave my brother a hard time. Not that I was a pain-in-the-neck little sister or anything.

View from the Book Depository of place where
Kennedy was shot; if you look carefully
you can see white X's on the road where bullets hit the motorcade.

Back to the future. Well, sort of. We got back on the North Tollway (still can’t figure out how you pay for using this street) and headed downtown. First stop: Sixth Floor Museum, where we learned all about Kennedy’s presidency and his assassination. It’s very interesting. And they made a brilliant move in giving everyone an audiotour player, with extra listening portions for those who want to know more. That way, if you have less time, or you have a 9 year old named Allison who is uncertain of the value of this information, you can move along, hitting all the main points. There were a few glitches, however, in that Allison’s ran out of battery charge, and Andrew’s crashed and then rebooted in Spanish, sort of like Buzz Lightyear in “Toy Story 3.” Sadly, Christian High’s Spanish classes have not yet prepared him for a historical narrative. Mrs. Klaver has some work cut out for her yet.

In spite of the tedium, Allison did a great job of hanging out when she needed a break and letting us listen as we wished. She has really turned into a traveler; she’s come a long way from the days when she would cry if we changed hotels because she wouldn’t know what the next one would be like. I came away with a much deeper understanding of the impact of both Kennedy and his assassination on our country.

A couple has an early date at Eno's

Next up was the Bishop Arts District. This is a small area of Oak Cliff, surrounded by run-down neighborhoods, that has been refurbished into an arts and entertainment area. It’s got the artsy feel of Cherry Street or Wealthy Street reboots in Grand Rapids. We enjoyed some great thin-crust pizza at Eno’s Pizza Tavern, shopped a little too heartily at a store called Dude, Sweet Chocolate, and then tested Andrew’s patience once again as we did some shopping at the boutique stores.

Last but not least was Reunion Tower, one of the mainstays of my parents’ tours when people came to visit us in Dallas. This was a bit of a long shot. The observation deck is closed for renovations, and the restaurant at the top is still open. But it’s now a Wolfgang Puck’s, and they have a dress code. Natalie was wearing her Keens, and Andrew was in shorts. Allison had her panda-blowing-a-bubble-gum-bubble t-shirt on. We’d all been rained on and had been walking around all day. Plus we just wanted dessert, because dinner costs too much, and they don’t usually seat people just for dessert. It wasn’t looking good, is what I’m saying.

But it was a Tuesday night with gray skies, and the hostess near the elevator started to say “we don’t seat people for des…” Then she said “well, we aren’t very busy tonight,” called upstairs and got us in. We got to sit in the revolving restaurant for some truly decadent desserts and classic views of the Dallas skyline. It was all my inner 15-year-old could hope for. Capped the trip off perfectly.

Now we are settled in for the night, the kids watching yet another episode of “River Monsters” (we’re getting our fill of Animal Planet this week). They have a new form of entertainment—Andrew mutes the television, then narrates the commercials as they come on. In a bad British accent he gives the point of view of the hand that is caressing the toilet paper, or the cars that are being advertised. His sisters collapse in hysterics. So do I, actually, and I can’t even see the TV.

Well, I guess I’ve rambled on enough to know it must be time for bed. Tomorrow we’ll be heading out to San Antonio for a quick visit, and I’m looking forward to seeing the River Walk again. We brushed up on our Texas history at lunch in preparation for seeing the Alamo. Texas required that I take a semester of Texas history class in school, but it was all for naught. I remember nothing, other than that the Six Flags Over Texas amusement park was named that for the 6 flags that have flown over Texas. Please don’t ask me which flags those were, I certainly don’t remember. But I one thing I know for sure, it is a singular place.