Selene Isn’t Really From Here

Selena Isn’t Really From Here.
The old saying “you can never really go home again” rings so true for Corpus Christi. The 70’s Corpus had a vibe and character long replaced by something almost unknown. I say almost because one thing is consistent: the homeless are affable, harmless and relatively benign. I credit it to the numerous peers jutting out into the bay that is a de facto public restroom. That and the beachfront view seems to provide an overlay of reverie missing in most concrete jungles. The Selena statue looms large, and for me strangely so. I have zero memories of Tejano music being front and center; Heavy Metal and New Wave were dominant as I recall. Ocean Drive seems less glamorous than I remember it. Some mansions are still intact, while others are dilapidated yet strangely show signs of habitation: manicured lawns and flowerbeds grace the yards.
The “seedy” parts of downtown appear to have lost that edge. But the replacement is soulless buildings and empty lots instead of coffee shops, yoga studios and condos. It’s been cleaned up, but not gentrified. Instead there is a sterile overlay where there was once an oddly appealing ecosystem. Itinerants of all kinds, addicts, Ladies of the Evening, Bikers, and other “creatures of the night” whose existence was far from Bohemian, but not uninteresting. Gone are the fedora wearing “Lowriders” with the Wayfarers and almost-vintage cars. They were all something, but the void has not been filled. There are no signs of pending construction, or even anything for sale. Abandonment is the theme.
Wienerschnitzel was such a treat. It ensured behavior during endless Sunday church services by visiting it as an incentive. Especially during those too brief winters, when it offered an oasis of warmth and relief. It’s still there, but the visit was only slightly redeemed by a heated argument between the staff and an irate customer involving forty nine cents. The interior was soulless plastic and no cushion. Staff were despondent and sullen (until confronted with accusations of financial chicanery; they then became animated and showed true coworker solidarity!). The “food” was barely palatable, and I still apologize to my children for the nutritional abuse they suffered on that day. The Sunrise Mall (now being demolished) was on its last leg; no serious food court or mainstream retailers. Padre Staples Mall has been rebranded as La Palmera. It offers nothing more that a generic mall in “Anywhere USA” would. Away from the beachfront, there is a less sterile Corpus Christ. But the neglect here is not benign; many homes are in need of renovation or complete demolition. Roofs sag, porches tilt, and yards are parking lots for cars that haven’t moved since the first term of George W Bush. Graffiti abounds, but none of it artsy or decorative; it clearly marks territory. Gone are Feudo Foods and Handy Andy’s with the meat, produce and cooking staples. Now Family Dollar offers empty carbohydrates and refined sugars in boxes. Small “Tex-Mex” restaurants are still around, some good, many not and all are overpriced.
The overall combination of stagnation, sterility and visible decline permeated the air. But is this assessment fair? Was it as great as I remember, and am I overly critical and disappointed that my nostalgia wasn’t confirmed? Hard to say. I may well have purposely clouded the lens I look through with shades of jade.