THE TWINS: PEOPLE WITH STORIES TO TELL

Zach House image from www.wimwic.org

There are twin sisters, somewhere in their 80s -- tiny little things that, if sitting together on one end of a see-saw, just might balance me -- who workout at the women's gym I go to. They are fraternal twins, I think, not identical. One has straight hair in a boyish cut, while the other has a halo of frizzy curls, though I suppose they could come from a kit or salon. Their faces are different too. Straight's is softer, rounder, while Frizzy's is more prune-like, with scrunched up eyes. I suppose that could be environmental as well. Straight says she gave up cigarettes years ago, but Frizzy still smokes. Like a chimney. The aroma follows her around like a cloud, which is why I usually try to nab a machine on the opposite side of the room from them when I come in. Of course, they are both talkers and story-tellers, and once they get going, they occasionally forget to move on to the next machine in the circle, so eventually, I catch up to them.

That's what happened yesterday, and I was planning to skip on past, until I got hooked into the story they were telling the woman next to them. They were talking about how they first came to Wimberley in '32. Their momma was a school teacher, and was having some health issues. The doctor told their daddy he needed to get her out of the city -- take her somewhere quiet and restful. Their father was somehow connected to the San Marcos Baptist Academy, and was familiar with Wimberley since they occasionally took the boys there on day trips. He figured that would be the perfect place for his wife to recover, since nothing ever happened in Wimberley! They ended up renting a cabin at what is now called Rio Bonito Resort.

Eventually Momma got better, and they returned to the city. But then Daddy passed away, Momma remarried, and Step-Daddy went off to war. When he finally returned, he was a bit worse for wear. He said he just couldn't live in the city anymore. He needed somewhere quiet and restful. Momma said "I know just the place!", and that's how they ended up living on a ranch in Wimberley.

Before I knew it, the blinking red light on my machine was telling me my exercise session was over, and I'd forgotten all about the smokey aroma that I usually take such pains to avoid. In fact, I was thinkin' that, in the future, I just might be seeking it out. It'd be worth it, don't you think, if it meant getting to hear lots more of those tales about life here in Wimberely, and how it has changed over the last 80 years, from a couple of gals who saw it all first hand?