Tag Archives: Dripping Springs

local news

Hoping for a moratorium extension

DRIPPING SPRINGS, Texas — Looking around this thriving Central Texas community, I am struck by what is occurring back home in North Texas, where I now call home.

Both communities are growing at breakneck paces, although I can argue that Princeton is setting sort of an unofficial land-speed record for residential growth. Princeton is acting on it, believing it is time to put the brakes on residential construction to enable infrastructure development to keep pace with the demand on those services.

Princeton has imposed a four-month ban on residential construction. Four months, at first glance, doesn’t seem as though it provides enough time for the city to provide enough infrastructure to keep pace with growth.

Police Chief Jim Waters said he needs to hire 30 more officers. Thirty more officers? The city needs to erect more water towers to control the flow of water into residents’ homes.

Street repair, construction and maintenance also must be bolstered.

It looks to me that Princeton finally has tapped into its proactive streak in managing its growth. Man … it must act.

The question now becomes: Is four months enough time?

No. It isn’t time to do all the things the city needs to do.

I see a moratorium extension in the city’s immediate future. Other rapidly growing communities, such as Dripping Springs, would do well to follow suit.

State news

Hoping to hear more from Jack

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Have you ever met someone who loves to tell stories about the old days?

And have you ever heard that someone tell those stories in an way that enthralls the listener?

I’ve met such a man. His name is Jack. I don’t know his last name. He’s 82 years of age. He lives in the town where he was born, raised and where he came of age.

It’s in Dripping Springs, Texas.

We met with Jack this morning at a popular diner on Dripping Springs’ main drag: U.S. Highway 290; there’s a sign on the wall next to the kitchen that says, “Dripping Springs: Just west of weird,” meaning, I presume, Austin.

We had breakfast, but Jack just strolled in on one of his several regular coffee stops before going to church. He’d already been to the Whataburger and was headed to Subway after downing his coffee at the diner.

We had met Jack once before. He’s a friend of my wife’s brother. My wife and I were camped at an RV park in Johnson City, just a bit west of Dripping Springs. Jack and my brother-in-law came over that day.

What’s so appealing about Jack?

Frankly, I can’t quite describe it.

Dripping Springs ain’t exactly Austin or San Antonio. The sign entering the town lists its population at 1,788 individuals. My guess is that it’s larger than that now. Construction crews are leveling property all over town, laying utility lines down in preparation for more home and business construction.

One of these days — probably quite soon — Dripping Springs is going to be much larger than it is today.

Jack’s head must be spinning.

He told us this morning about a bison that got loose and was roaming through the town in the old days; he talked about how cattle walked and grazed through the town. “No one cared,” Jack said.

He talked about how his parents were able to provide for young Jack with so very little in the way of what we could call “modern conveniences.”

There is just something remarkably unassuming and so durn “down home” about ol’ Jack. He speaks with that classic Texas twang.

He’s a delightful gentleman who just seems to love regaling “young folks” like my wife, brother-in-law and me with tales of how it used to be in a place that to my eyes doesn’t look too terribly removed from how it was.

I am certain Jack sees it through an entirely different prism.

I’m hoping to get back to the Hill Country soon and perhaps listen to more tales of days gone by from Jack. He has me spellbound.

 

State news

Could they live in today’s world?

house

DRIPPING SPRINGS, Texas — The house pictured here belonged to Joseph and Sara Pounders, the couple who founded the community of Dripping Springs.

They built the place in 1854. Joseph Pounders practiced medicine here. He got to know the Comanches who lived in the area. According to the fellow who walked us through the place, Dr. Pounders “had no trouble with the Indians once they found out he was a medicine man.”

They had a smoke house. A sistern sat outside the walls of the place to catch rain water. Mrs. Pounders had a tub where she bathed once each week, yes, whether she needed it or not. Dr. Pounders had a place by the fence in the back where he bathed.

They moved their outhouse from place to place once the pit they dug under it filled with … well, you know.

It was a primitive life to be sure.

The question always enters my mind when I see visit like this: Could I ever live under these conditions? The answer is obvious. No! Not just no … but hell no!

I am not ashamed to admit such a thing.

My lack of shame comes from my belief that Dr. and Mrs. Pounders — or any of the settlers who forged the country we know today — could live in our world.

 

 

Uncategorized

This constable earns his pay

DRIPPING SPRINGS, Texas — Those who know my views on things know that I have had a long-standing loathing of constable offices.

I consider them to be non-essential functions of law enforcement in counties where their duties could be performed by municipal police officers or county sheriff’s deputies. They cost counties — and the state — money that could be spent in other areas.

However …

While visiting my wife’s brother, I heard a story this morning that proves that in at least one Texas county, constables are able to perform an actual function that justifies their existence.

Here’s how the story goes.

My brother-in-law was visiting friends at a local diner recently in Dripping Springs, a tiny town just west of Austin. A constable burst into the place and told my brother-in-law that he needed a juror to sit in on a trial being held at a justice of the peace court in the county seat of San Marcos.

Michael’s friend said he was too busy, as he had to attend a funeral later that morning. The constable turned to Michael and said, in effect, “OK, pal, you’re it. Come with me.”

My brother-in-law accompanied the constable to the courtroom, took his seat on the six-person jury and listened to a trial involving a fellow who was being evicted from the house where he lived. It was a slam-dunk case for the county, my brother-in-law said, and the jury voted to toss the guy out of his house.

I heard the story and couldn’t stop laughing. The very idea of a uniformed law enforcement officer virtually ordering someone to serve on a jury is something I’ve never witnessed, or frankly, ever even heard of happening. It does, quite obviously, in some rural counties that employ constables.

My feelings about the office haven’t changed. I still believe the Texas Legislature needs to give counties the power to get rid of the office if they see fit. Randall County, where my wife and I live, has suffered through constable woes for longer than officials care to admit. They can’t get rid of the office, because the Legislature doesn’t give counties the power to act cleanly.

Hays County, at least, puts their constables to work. More power to them here, just not where I live.