Guest columnist: Carol Milder and husband Ken moved from Richmond, Texas, to their ranch in Buffalo, Texas, in 2008.  In 2024, Carol retired after a 49 year career in the real estate industry, as a Realtor and a residential real estate appraiser.  Her retirement plans include ranching, ministry, and writing.

       HOLD UP AT THE STAR CAFE​

by Carol Milder​

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    In the late 1950's I spent as much of the summer with my grandmother as my mother would allow. My grandmother owned The Star Cafe in Angleton, Texas.  Everyone in town called my Grandmother "Mom" and so did I.
     The cafe opened early for Dow shift workers and stayed opened late, for those wanting a Falstaff, Pearl or a Lone Star longneck.  The traffic light on Hwy. 288 would be blinking yellow on our morning and evening trips from her home on Peach Street, a few blocks away.
     I enjoyed the long days, there was a juke box, pin ball machines, an old wooden telephone booth, when you closed the door the light and fan came on...like magic. I loved spinning the bar stools and loved all the attention from the friendly customers that doted on "Mom's" visiting granddaughter.  When I got bored, there was a Five & Dime Store next door, Mom gave me her tip change and I would shop the toy aisle.
     I enjoyed the best hamburgers in the world,  cooked to perfection and wrapped in white paper by Mom's faithful short order cook, Tomasa.
     My favorite spot in the cafe was to sit on the tall stool behind the big black cash register. It was old style with big buttons and a loud bell when the drawer opened. Even though I was about 5 years old, this one summer, I was allowed to take money and give the change at the register.  

     At the beginning of the lunch rush, the cafe was packed, I was sitting on the stool waiting for the customers to finish and pay. While patiently waiting, I noticed the cowboy style pistol on the shelf under the register, I knew I shouldn't touch it, but in an Annie Oakley moment, I picked it up, stood on the stool and steadied the gun on top of the cash register.

     Wow, for the first time in my life, I recognized the power of a real gun. The cafe went silent, all eyes were on me, I liked the momentary spotlight so I waved the gun back and forth from my perch. I looked to the right and a few men were walking very slowly towards me, sideways, like crawfish.     

     I don't know where my grandmother was, but one of the crawfish walking men asked me to put the pistol back where I got it ... so I did.
     I don't think I got spanked, but I disappointed my grandmother and that was worse than a spanking.
     My grandmother had a reputation of being an outspoken character, so I don't think the cafe patrons were surprised that her granddaughter was a chip off that same block.
     I still have that cowboy pistol, it is in a shadowbox frame, hanging on the wall.  I look at it and remember how much I loves being a kid that grew up in the 1950's, that my grandmother never left me with a sitter, she took me everywhere, all day and evening at the café, trips to the meat market and the bank to make her daily deposit.

     I remember those wonderful summers and all the life lessons Mom taught me, just by spending so much time with me, she loved me completely, loved me absolutely and unconditionally.