I have to confess when I first mentioned Pecan Jam to Harold, his eyes lit up, he smacked his lips and said…”I will take mine spread over fresh homemade waffles with syrup, butter and powdered sugar sprinkled over the top.” After I had thrown away the paper towels I needed to clean the pool of drool. from the hardwood floors Harold’s mere words had triggered in poor Patches’, I explained to them both that Pecan Jam was a festival, not food. Harold remained interested, wanting to hear what I had to say, however Patches left the room to find the phone numbers for the SPCA and PETA as he knew he would not be attending Pecan Jam with us and considers being left out of family activities abuse. I have been anticipating this event since its inception and have high hopes for its success for our little city. As with all things in life, when a group of people are brought to a sandbox to play together there will be disagreement. There are going to be those who feel slighted, others who pick up a hand full of sand to throw at those building the biggest castle and then stomp away from the playground in anger and still others who talk about the people in the sandbox without ever having visited to see what is happening in it. Some people think Pecan Jam is a great idea and others who do not but the only thing that should really matter is doing what is best for San Saba and its future. Personally, anything that entices my son away from the streets of Houston and gets him to drive the six hours to San Saba is hands down a winning event in my book. I just don’t understand why all my calls and invitations to come watch the grass grow here has not gotten him in his truck every free weekend he has had and made him head this way! Actually, with the drought having been so devastating this year, I have had to revise my ploys to lure him to visit us by saying if he would make the drive we would paint the yard green and watch what looked like grass dry! Stop rolling your eyes people, he works for a big advertising agency and needs some down time. I will admit though, Patches did hand Shawn the number to the SPCA and my cell phone the last time he was here for a visit and I thought I heard whispers about cruel and unusual punishment. Coming into this town from the east on 190 reminds me of when my mom would come in and cover me with a blanket and tuck me in for a safe night of slumber. When the miles of nothing but trees and ranch lands suddenly give way to hand cut stone buildings, the old courthouse with its clock and tower, stores with names like Harry’s, Sisters, Frank’s and paved sidewalks is as welcoming as a member of the family. Even the proximity of the buildings to the street seem to wrap around like a hug. The welcome sign that stands just outside of town is reinforced by the physicality of the mood here and the people who call San Saba home. My hope for October 22nd is that many people will discover a little gem of a place to come back to and perhaps even a place they would like to invest in and bring their business to full time. Like most who live here, I do not want San Saba to become a metropolis or to lose its charm and small town feel. I lived the first part of my life in the chaos that is the big city and I have no desire to go back to the hollow feelings all that brings but I also know that without growth there is death. As with all things in life, I am hoping San Saba will find a balance where we can be a town of new growth, new business and keep our wits, wealth of charm and our sense of character. It is now time for this character to give her whole heart to you once again with all its love and say I hope to see you all for waffles and Pecan Jam!I have to confess when I first mentioned Pecan Jam to Harold, his eyes lit up, he smacked his lips and said…”I will take mine spread over fresh homemade waffles with syrup, butter and powdered sugar sprinkled over the top.” After I had thrown away the paper towels I needed to clean the pool of drool. from the hardwood floors Harold’s mere words had triggered in poor Patches’, I explained to them both that Pecan Jam was a festival, not food. Harold remained interested, wanting to hear what I had to say, however Patches left the room to find the phone numbers for the SPCA and PETA as he knew he would not be attending Pecan Jam with us and considers being left out of family activities abuse. I have been anticipating this event since its inception and have high hopes for its success for our little city. As with all things in life, when a group of people are brought to a sandbox to play together there will be disagreement. There are going to be those who feel slighted, others who pick up a hand full of sand to throw at those building the biggest castle and then stomp away from the playground in anger and still others who talk about the people in the sandbox without ever having visited to see what is happening in it. Some people think Pecan Jam is a great idea and others who do not but the only thing that should really matter is doing what is best for San Saba and its future. Personally, anything that entices my son away from the streets of Houston and gets him to drive the six hours to San Saba is hands down a winning event in my book. I just don’t understand why all my calls and invitations to come watch the grass grow here has not gotten him in his truck every free weekend he has had and made him head this way! Actually, with the drought having been so devastating this year, I have had to revise my ploys to lure him to visit us by saying if he would make the drive we would paint the yard green and watch what looked like grass dry! Stop rolling your eyes people, he works for a big advertising agency and needs some down time. I will admit though, Patches did hand Shawn the number to the SPCA and my cell phone the last time he was here for a visit and I thought I heard whispers about cruel and unusual punishment. Coming into this town from the east on 190 reminds me of when my mom would come in and cover me with a blanket and tuck me in for a safe night of slumber. When the miles of nothing but trees and ranch lands suddenly give way to hand cut stone buildings, the old courthouse with its clock and tower, stores with names like Harry’s, Sisters, Frank’s and paved sidewalks is as welcoming as a member of the family. Even the proximity of the buildings to the street seem to wrap around like a hug. The welcome sign that stands just outside of town is reinforced by the physicality of the mood here and the people who call San Saba home. My hope for October 22nd is that many people will discover a little gem of a place to come back to and perhaps even a place they would like to invest in and bring their business to full time. Like most who live here, I do not want San Saba to become a metropolis or to lose its charm and small town feel. I lived the first part of my life in the chaos that is the big city and I have no desire to go back to the hollow feelings all that brings but I also know that without growth there is death. As with all things in life, I am hoping San Saba will find a balance where we can be a town of new growth, new business and keep our wits, wealth of charm and our sense of character. It is now time for this character to give her whole heart to you once again with all its love and say I hope to see you all for waffles and Pecan Jam!