Duane Mattson and Amy Taylor

From what I’ve heard, it’s an effective group, teaming up with the likes of Philip and Donna Berber’s astonishing Glimmer of Hope. I’m planning a major column on Austin’s outreach to the world, which will include these two groups along with Caroline Boudreaux’s Miracle Foundation, Niyanta Spelman’s Rainforest Partnership, Turk and Christy Pipkin’s Nobelity Project, as well as Susan and Michael Dell’s efforts in South Africa and India. If you know of others, contact me at mbarnes11@me.com.

Bill and Venus Strawn

Back to the auction: The chefs were on hand to introduce their fantasy menus on the 55th floor of the Austonian on Tuesday. Those chefs include David Bull (Congress), Elmar Prambs (Trio), Shawn Cirkiel (Parkside), Tyson Cole (Uchi), Ned Elliott (Foregin & Domestic), Alejandro Duran (Malaga), Paul Hargrove (Trace), Rob Snow (Mansion on Judge’s Hill), Kelly Casey (Hudson’s on the Bend), Andrew Wisehart (Contigo) and Wolfgang Murber (Fabi and Rosi).

Mia Thaker and Maria Brunel

Hmmm. Look at the list again. Some fantasy chefs making some of those fantasy meals. Bid now!

When the rally ended, most folks scattered. Others lingered, shuttling around the shops, eateries and other gathering spots in the irregularly shaped, compact square formed principally by Ranch Road 12, Old Kyle Road and Hinson Street on the high banks of Cypress Creek.

“To the people on the square, it is the center of the world,” says Bill Johnson, 88, whose family has ranched in Hays County since the 1830s and whose spread lies not far from the square, directly across Cypress Creek from the famed Blue Hole and its new park.

For this somewhat isolated valley town of 2,620 people, according to the 2010 U.S. Census — 40 miles and an hour drive to Austin’s southwest — the square does seem the one place where everyone meets everyone else, fulfilling an ancient function.

“It’s the symbol of what Wimberley was founded to be,” says Coach Nelms about the square following the rally. “A peaceful, special place.”

In county seats, the courthouse is often the tallest and most ornate structure in town. The grounds of these buildings are usually surrounded by four strips of businesses enclosing four streets around the courthouse. It’s that simple and logical.

Wimberley Town Square did not evolve that way. It is neither simple, nor logical. “It was either a pile of dust or a mess of mud,” Johnson said of the improvised square before it was covered with gravel in the early 1940s, then paved in 1946. “The ruts were so deep in wet years you could hardly get across it.”

A 1900 photograph of the square reveals only four structures in a bleak expanse: A residence, a blacksmith shop, a Woodmen of the World headquarters that doubled as the Town Hall and a modest store. A barber shop and a shoe shop stood outside the frame, according to Johnson. By 1939, the square hosted a gas station and more substantial stores.

(The village was known by at least four other names before settling on its current one.)

At the mill, shingles were made from the Hill Country’s towering cypresses. Later, cotton, molasses and flour were processed there. The mill didn’t close until 1929 and it was razed in 1934.

The remains of a deep mill race — the channel that connects falling water to a wheel that powers milling functions — can be detected along a narrow road to Johnson’s ranch, not far from the town square.

The visitor can learn more about this history inside a cluster of civic buildings across Cypress Creek from the square. Here one finds the rehabilitated Winters-Wimberley home, the oldest rock house in town, built by William Winters in 1857.

Zachary Wimberley was his son.

“Zachary married a 15-year-old girl,” says Johnson, my trusted and often irreverent guide for our three-hour tour of the square and its vicinity. “After living in this house, she packed her bags and told Zachary, ‘This house is not big enough for two women.’ (Referring to Zach’s mother.) So he built another cabin down the way. They had 10 children. She died and he had a couple more with another wife. Zachary populated the place of Wimberley.”

While this key milling industry stayed along the creek to the north, the town core rose on the southern banks in an agglomeration of buildings that form a more or less rectilinear town square. To reach the square from the civic complex, the visitor heads over the bridge that replaced a low-water crossing.

“We got that in the 1940s,” says Johnson, a lanky man with a dry voice who seems to have stepped out of a John Huston movie. “We also wanted a traffic light and telephone.”

Townfolk still talk about characters like Kim Tinney, a hermit, woodsman and rattlesnake seller, and tough Susie Danforth, a teacher, painter, poet and horsewoman who could handle a gun. Then there was Georgia Eggers, the switchboard operator who didn’t answer when she had to milk the cow.

“The telephone operator was the source of town news,” Johnson says. “You’d call for somebody and she’d say, ‘They’ve gone to Galveston’ or something of that sort. She was really very dedicated. She’d stay with the town from 9 a.m. to 6 or 7 at night.”

Today, at the top of the creek’s bank, the buildings of the square stretch to the left and the right. But before crossing to the square proper, one must carefully scan for traffic, which comes from five directions, at times quite rapidly.

“The whole county loved horses in those days,” Johnson says.

From the 1930s through the mid-1960s, it was a “cash grocery” and feed store with a dance floor and rooms to rent. A photograph from the 1930s shows a cattle drive of white-faced Herefords ambling past that grocery.

“It was the center of town for many years,” Johnson says of the Ranch House Cafe, Grocery Store and Feed Store. “Then it burned down in 1965.”

“We have many communities here,” Johnson says. “We have the school group. Then there are the (retired) golf and bridge players. And we have the merchants.”

A cultural divide has split those merchants who occupy the Town Square and attract thousands each month to Market Days with their arts, crafts and services, and the more conventional retailers who sell groceries, hardware, building supplies and other essentials in larger, modern stores on the northern bank.

At other times, residents have chaffed at newcomers who itched to “improve” what they came enjoy.

Cut off from the mainstream economy, Wimberley eked out an existence without capital investments, and, early on, it sometimes skipped the cash economy altogether. Johnson says that, around 1910, his grandfather paid a man $2 for a wagon full of wood. When the next year rolled around, he offered the man $2 again for the wood.

“’Mr. Johnson, the man said, ‘This is the first cash I’ve had since last year,’” the son remembers. “There was very little money back then. Everything was done on barter or volunteer basis.”

Shopkeepers in the square often lived over their stores in the square. No clear separation existed between residential and commercial activity.

He points out that other little towns nearby — Martindale, Driftwood, Mountain City — almost disappeared.

“Wimberley became a destination,” he says. “All the shops are a little different. There are no franchises. There’s no single Wimberley way of doing things.”

About 50 years ago, artists, beatniks and hippies from Austin and elsewhere flocked to the high hills, cool swimming holes and quiet retreats that had attracted tourists since the early 20th century.

Wimberley’s relative distance from major highways protected its historical character and encouraged, for better and worse, the cultivation of a type of deliberate quaintness also embraced by places like Fredericksburg and Salado.

In the 1960s, the Lion’s Club took over the event, which lands on the first Saturday of each month, March through December. Now some 500 booths are erected near the square. Traffic in such a small place is, understandably, daunting.

“We old-timers don’t go out — or we go north — to avoid it all,” Johnson says. “All the traffic and parking!”

Among the famous folks who hung out — or still hang out — in Wimberley Town Square include the land’s early owner, Jacob de Cordova (who wrote “Texas: Her Resources and Public Men”), musician Ray Wylie Hubbard, super-lawyer and Watergate Special Prosecutor Leon Jaworski, Texas regional modernist architect O’Neil Ford, forerunner muralist, sculptor and inventor Buck Winn, resort pioneer Raymond Czichos and Welsh painter and eccentric, Edward Povey.

Eventually, visiting Austinites and others — especially from Houston and Dallas — settled in Wimberley aside the longtime residents to raise families.

“They stay because of the children,” Johnson says. “The people who come here for the water, mountains and beauty make good neighbors.”

“I can tell you that the main reason my husband and I settled in Wimberley was our youngest daughter,” LeBrun says. “We were living in Los Angeles and decided we wanted to raise our child in a smaller city. … (Then) we were renting in Austin when we saw an ad in the American-Statesman about a house for sale on the golf course in a town named Wimberley. We drove to see the house, did not buy that house, but rather the one next to it. Twenty-six years later, here we are.”

Baptist music minister Dan Stephens grew up in San Antonio and had vacationed as a youth in the Hill Country.

“I prayed to find a church in San Antonio or Austin because I have family in both,” he says. “I feel like the Lord has put me right in the middle.”

Former Dallasite Mac McCullough, business owner and city council member — he beat Gary “Catfish” Pigg by two votes — owned a second home in Wimberley that became his primary residence.

“We looked all over,” McCullough says. “We could have lived anywhere we wanted to. It had to be here.”

Preserving the square and its character has become a crusade for some in Wimberley, old-timers and newcomers.

She points out the skilled masonry work on the 1930s James C. Lane “Gingerbread House” and the two-story home next door, now known as Aunt Jenny’s Attic. A team of masons had assembled the old drug store, now the Cypress Creek Cafe.

“These are all important landmarks that define this unique village square,” Billingsly says.

Johnson has his own way of memorializing his hometown by publishing short books about Wimberley. He’s written another that might tell much more about what happened in and around the Wimberley Town Square, if ever published.

“It’s about who killed who,” he smiles and winks. “And who kept a still up in the hills.

1/2 cup wild rice

Water

4 TB butter

1 small carrot (about 1/4 cup) minced

3 stalks (about 1 cup) minced celery

1 medium onion (about one cup) minced

1/3 cup all purpose flour

1/2 cup dry white wine

2 1/2 - 3 cups chicken stock

2 cups half and half cream

1 tsp hot sauce

1/2 chicken bouillon cube or salt

1 TB parsley chopped

2 TB sweet marsala, sherry or port

Chive sprigs

Soak rice in cold water for 10 minutes

Strain water away

Add to a saucepan with 2 cups of water

Simmer for 30-40 minutes until tender but still with ‘some chew’ to it (It does not and should not cook up like rice, it is more like al dente pasta)

Strain water away, rinse and set aside

Cook the other soup ingredients:

Melt butter, over medium heat in pot large enough to accommodate all ingredients

Add carrot, celery and onion and sauté until softened

Stir flour into the butter/vegetable mixture creating a roux and let cook 2-3 minutes

Stir in the wine, let cook for 1 minute

Stir in 2 1/2 cups of chicken stock, let cook until thickened to the consistency of gravy

Stir in the cooked wild rice and cream

Bring to a very light simmer, stirring often

Add hot sauce and bouillon cube or salt, more or less to taste and simmer 20-30 minutes, stirring often

Add remaining chicken stock as needed to thin soup to desired consistency

Stir in parsley and port or sherry and heat through

Garnish with chives and serve

Makes approximately 30 light, small-ish hushpuppies

1 cup cornmeal

1/4 cup all purpose flour

1/4 cup masa flour

1 1/2 tsp salt

pinch black pepper

1 tsp yeast

1 egg

1/3 cup buttermilk

2 TB pepper jack cheese grated

1/2 TB scallions minced

1 tsp fresh cilantro minced

Enough shortening or canola oil to fill a pot to 3” deep

Mix cornmeal, flours, sale, pepper and yeast in a bowl

Mix egg, buttermilk, cheese, scallions and cilantro in another bowl

Slowly pour and fold together wet mix into dry mix until fully incorporated

Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate at 8 -12 hours

Remove from refrigerator 1 hour before cooking

Bring oil in pot to 350 degrees

Drop batter, approximately a teaspoon full, into oil

Turn and roll around until golden brown

Remove to plate with paper towels for cooling

Serve when cool enough to eat or at room temperature

4 cups buttermilk

1 TB hot sauce

1 tsp salt

1 chicken cut into 8 pieces

4 eggs

2 cups all purpose flour

1/2 TB salt

1/2 TB paprika

1 tsp black pepper

1/2 TB garlic powder

1 tsp smoked paprika

1 tsp dry mustard

1/2 TB chili powder

1/2 cup corn flakes crushed

Enough shortening or canola oil to fill skillet to 1” deep

Mix buttermilk, hot sauce and salt in a large bowl

Submerge chicken pieces

Cover in plastic wrap and refrigerate 6-12 hours

Remove chicken from refrigerator

Mix all dry ingredients and pour onto a sheet-pan

Retain 1/2 the buttermilk, remove chicken and pat dry with paper towels

Add eggs to the retained buttermilk, mixing well

Dredge chicken in dry sheet-pan mixture, shaking off excess

Dip in buttermilk/egg mixture, shaking off excess

Dredge again in dry sheet-pan mixture, shaking off excess

In a large cast iron or heavy skillet heat oil to 350 degrees

Add chicken pieces with space between and fry, turning once, 5-7 minutes per side (thighs and legs will take longer)

Remove to plate with paper towels for draining

Photos to come.

Dinner service, cookware and Midwestern ingredients spread neatly over the wide kitchen with its near-commerical Wolf range and poised crew of three brunette women greeting each guest.

Behind a curtain in the tall dining room, a long, narrow table was festooned with candles, flowers and smooth river pebbles. Hand-painted napkins unfolded into maps of the Mississippi Valley.

Hosts Blaise Bahara and Bess Giannakakis certainly know how to set the scene for a benefit dinner party. Their theme for “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” on Feb. 4 was “Mississippi Rising: A Culinary Journey Down Ol’ Man River.”

Each year, clusters of hosts around Austin give dinners on the same night to raise money for Project Transitions, the nonprofit that serves people with HIV and AIDS by providing hospice, housing and support.

The scene was not unfamiliar. For several years, our former cooking group, dubbed the Spice Boys, hosted “Guess Who” dinners. The last one was a marvelous frenzy, serving more than 30 guests at the graceful Old West Austin home of Nick Shumway and Robert Mayott.

But Shumway and Mayott moved away, as did the other Spice Boys: Dale Rice, Antonio La Pastina, Sean Massey and Loren Couch. This was the year to get back into the “Guess Who” spirit.

So why a bed and breakfast in Austin?

“I’ve got 10 years of really hard work ahead of me,” she confesses. “I don’t want to spend 14 hours a day over a hot stove. I’d rather spend it making beds and chatting with people.”

The couple rents out four rooms in two structures separated by a pool and spa deck that they added. The house is decorated with historical photographs of Austin and elsewhere, along with reviews of Giannakakis’ last restaurant, which appeared on an episode of the Food Network’s “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.”

Host Guy Fieri called one of her casual dishes at Colossal Cafe: “Christmas in a sandwich.”

When the pair heard about the Project Transitions series, they jumped right in, setting their table this year for 11.

“Fifty percent of the guests are people we know, fifty percent we don’t know,” Bahara says. “Last year we served food from six countries for ‘Mediterranean Madness.’ Like last time, we’ll stick to small dishes.”

The guests, who were given slips of paper printed with facts about Mississippi Valley’s gustatory bounty to read aloud before each course, attended for a range of reasons.

“This one sounded the most interesting and intimate,” said Adam Holzband of the “Guess Who” dinner selections. “It’s the best way to get to a little closer to the chef and the food!”

“I came last year,” Robin Sanders said. “So I know what a great evening we are in for.”

“We live down the street and watched the changes in the house go up,” Torbin McEwin said. “We were interested in what was inside.”

“Well, I’m on the board of Project Transitions,” Lynn McNeill said. “And I’ve not done one of these before.”

‘I sold them the house!” Angelle Hall said. “And we became fast friends. They dreamboarded really big.”

House painter Eric Frost worked on Gateways Guesthouse.

Not long after the dinner began, with Bahara and Giannakakis making announcements from the nearby kitchen, the stories, jokes and laughter rolled through the room.

Food blogger Jodi Bart, for instance, had won the Whole Foods Foodie Fantasy contest which took her to several culinary regions of Europe and led to her engagement. Such stories came out of that adventure.

Among the most amusing tropes of the evening arose from Kimberly Kohlhaas, who claimed not to have spoken in public since third grade when she mispronounced a commonly mispronounced word.

After that, almost everyone reading from the Mississippi Valley prompts stumbled in some way or another, leaving the whole table heaving with giddiness.

The final toast of many: “To doing it wrong and not caring.”

Photos by Ashley Landis.

These natives of Montreal and St. Louis, respectively, who lived together previously in San Francisco and Minneapolis, chose the theme “Mississippi Rising.”

All the food and drink — or at least the ideas for the dishes — came from the basins of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers. Ten states — Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa, Illinois, Missouri, Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas, Mississippi and Louisiana — were represented. (The contributing Missouri River was snubbed.)

We’ll relate the physical and social settings in a later post — yes, it was that memorable! — but let’s record first the consumables.

“Wild rice is on every menu in Minnesota,” Giannakakis said with an indulgent smile. The concoction came with a bottle of Summit Winter Ale, brewed in St. Paul, Minn.

Next arrived small, pale medallions of pork loin nested on a reduction of moonshine-corn cream, almonds and roasted red peppers. (“There are 10 pigs for every human in Iowa,” we learned.)

Alongside sat a shot of the moonshine-like Prichards Lincoln County Lightning, a stinging white corn whiskey — that can’t be aged — hailing from Tennessee.

A fresh take on fried chicken — maybe the best I’ve ever tasted — was refreshed with 9-year-old Knob Creek single-barrel bourbon, along with mashed potatoes, gravy, biscuits and gravy.

Yep, another meat dish still to go. (The portions were suitably small.) Memphis-style barbecue pork ribs indulged in a spicy rub for three days, then they were smoked for three hours before finishing in an oven. Like mother’s love.

An exquisite profiterole that mixed hot and cool chocolate around a puff of bread finished the meal. This was served with a Missouri chardonnay.

As everyone was scraping the last chocolate off the plate, almost instantaneously, demitasses of espresso appeared for those who requested a cleansing of the senses.

Why the Mississippi theme, other than the couple’s life adventures up and down its stem?

“I wanted to do something to unite the whole country,” Giannakakis says. “You know, how we used to be together?”

Photos by Ashley Landis

As if playing a word game during the first intermission, guests on the Long Center plaza shared one-word responses to Donizetti’s “Lucia di Lammermoor” as staged by Austin Lyric Opera. (This kept them engaged while I snapped their pictures for this column.) Everyone I spoke to succinctly agreed with the published critics, who uniformly praised the music and the drama.

Terry Ortiz and Marion Sanchez

Yet they singled out soprano Lyubov Petrova, who gave a performance for the ages in the title role.

Brooke Bailey and Rudy Garcia

Pleased with the glories of the singing, acting, directing, conducting and playing, few seemed to notice the admittedly dowdy — if serviceable — sets and costumes from New Orleans and Salt Lake City. Given the company’s constrained circumstances these days, we must grow accustomed to the lack of potent spectacle and any repertoire outside opera’s Top 20.

Teresa Brucker and Dasha Yegorova

So be it. The music and drama suffice. They appeared to renew Austin’s devotion to the art form, as an up-to-the-rafters house rose to gladden the company with unreserved cheers.

Draped in vintage fashion, youngish guests paid tribute to Pat Benatar, Madonna and Cyndi Lauper, among other 1980s pop sensations, hoping to win prizes for best costume and best dancing.

Filling the Parish nightclub on East Sixth Street, they writhed well into the evening, almost as if designer drugs were fueling this nostalgic New Wave Ball. (They were not.)

In fact, Buffalo N.Y.-born Mia Washington, 44, works for one of Austin’s most serious charities. The Austin Children’s Shelter, beneficiary of the New Wave Ball, provides protection and care for children and young adults through emergency shelter care.

“We’re the place where the healing begins,” Washington likes to say. This director of special events knows, however, that a social affair to raise money for a critical nonprofit should not hit their guests over the head with the cause.

She recommends a well-crafted video, upbeat, to tell the charity’s story. A live speech is optional. Neither should exceed three minutes.

“People don’t want to hear talking,” she says. “If they came to your event, they want to support you. They also want to have a good time.”

The oldest of five — with four younger brothers — seems born to lighten the collective mood.

“I was fun, loud and playful,” she remembers of life with father Walter Louis Sims, who owned restaurants, and mother Sharon Ann Sims, a bookkeeper, both from Buffalo but now longtime residents of Portland, Ore. “How I am now is how I was as a kid.”

Washington changed schools several times, finishing her secondary education at suburban Pomona High School in Arvada, Colo. College was hit or miss, but she’s still determined to finish her communications degree from St. Edward’s University.

She studied music, dance, art and, being the eldest, learned to be responsible for others. Perhaps because her parents were self-made business people, she learned to shine while applying for her very first job in retail.

“I wanted to be at the mall. I wanted to buy clothes and see my friends,” she says. “My father coached me for job interviews. ‘Shake their hands and say ‘“When do I start?”’ When the interview was done, I yelled it ‘WHEN DO I START?’ By the time I got home, they hired me.”

Washington later did office work — always with plenty of people around — and eventually landed a job with the Urban League in Portland, Ore. during the early 1990s.

“That’s where I fell in love with nonprofits,” she says. “I loved what I did and that what I did directly affected somebody. Somebody ate because of what I did. Somebody got better because of what I did.”

She followed leader Herman Lessard to Austin when he became the CEO of the regional chapter.

“I knew nothing of Texas,” she confesses. “New Yorkers have a poor perception of Texas.”

By now she was a single mother. Azia Washington, 20, currently studies dance at Tyler Junior College.

“She’s most phenomenal thing I’ve ever produced,” she laughs. (Washington intersperses any conversation with generous laughter.)

A corporate gig in marketing and event planning ended in an untimely lay-off, but Washington landed on her feet with the United Way, the St. Ed’s. She’s been with the children’s shelter for six years.

Among her duties are planning the big annual events. Besides the New Wave Ball (Feb. 24 at Speakeasy nightclub), there’s Fashion for Compassion (March 23); a golf tournament (September) and the grown-up gala (Nov. 3).

Meanwhile, she’s the channel for third-party fundraisers — from lemonade stands to bike races — that benefit the shelter. She ensures that the gatherings are legitimate and ethical, fitting with the children’s shelter brand.

“It’s very valuable revenue stream,” Washington says of these grassroots affairs.

She dreamed up the New Wave Ball as a way to recruit new leaders.

“I started looking at events like the White Party (for LifeWorks) and others that were geared to a young demographic,” she says. “There’s a lot of young wealth here.”

Her formula for an effective fundraiser is deceptively simple, but as your social columnist an attest, not so easy to achieve.

“You’ve got to have good food, good drink and good people,” she says. “Having the right people there makes the difference. Then a good theme. A gala is a gala. A dinner is a dinner. Everybody does that. My job is to put the ACS flavor on our events.”

She works through volunteer committees, social media and other networking tools to get those people to the event. Even when things go reasonably well, there are no social guarantees.

The first New Wave Ball, with its campy ’80s theme, could have been the last one. Set in an awkward, bifurcated hotel space, it offered an over-abundance of food and cramped dance floor.

“The first one happened quickly,” Washington says. “I had to fight a bit to have the ball happen again. But the concept was good. Nobody else was doing that. The elements were there.”

In 2011, the ball moved to the Parish, a big, friendly, upstairs room best known for its superior acoustics. Media judges returned — I was one, not in costume, mind you — and many of the problems were fixed. Even so, emcee Martinez was forced to shout out raffle numbers to a distracted crowd and the wait for the prize announcements lasted way too long.

“You always need to get feedback,” Washington says. “Whether you like it or not. And you have to weigh it. We are still tweaking it.”

Like a stage director, Washington imagines what her guests will experience in advance. “People are sensory-oriented,” she says. “I try to be a guest and walk through it as a guest. What do they see? What do they hear? What do they smell? To me, that builds it all up.”

At Speakeasy, guests will be greeted with event lights, banners and several DeLorians on Congress Avenue.

“How they are received at the door sets the tone,” says Washington, who stations seasoned greeters near the reception table and directs refreshments to the guests before they even mingle. She also includes children at shelter events — not clients — to remind people subliminally of the charity’s mission.

“You tell your story when people don’t know you are telling it,” Washington says. “And if you tell the sad part, you also must tell the good. There’s got to be an upside.”

Marina and Gus Garcia

There were mayors aplenty though, including current Mayor Lee Leffingwell and three past mayors — Ron Mullen (1983-1985), Lee Cooke (1988-1991) and Kirk Watson (1997-2001) — who were saluted humorously at the end of the lunch. Three others — Frank Cooksey (1985-1988), Bruce Todd (1991-1997) and Gus Garcia (2001-2003) — were present.

Suzy Lindeman Snyder and Margaret Berry

Recently deceased association president Nancy Price Bowman was honored. And after way too many public thanks and recognitions, the three saluted ex-mayors took the stage, sitting on ornate throne-like chairs with Downtown Austin Alliance director Charlie Betts, who could have been mayor at some point if he had chosen to run.

Mary Arnold and Madge Vasquez

Betts — who must be tickled by all the talk about a medical school, teaching hospital, affordable housing and the Waller Creek project in downtown’s neglected northeast sector — stuck to questions that elicited funny mayoral memories. Odd political coalitions, failed and successful public projects and, especially, angry citizens made for anecdotes that, for me, could have lasted all afternoon.

Sunday, Sarah and her daughter, Mary Franklin (pictured), walked its uppermost reaches with me. The bookkeeper for MF Plumbing Co., the family business shared with her husband, Michael Franklin, lives on Kenniston Drive with four large and rather intimidating dogs, multiple ducks, chickens and other livestock attached what she calls the “Franklin Funny Farm.”

An old neighbor told Franklin that their tall-ceilinged wood house was constructed by German prisoners of war at Camp Swift and moved to its current location near Guadalupe Street, when it would have been a rural enclave. Otherwise, their area was associated with the large African American orphanage and farm called St. John’s. It later hosted modest, late-century ranch homes of varied styles and quality.

Running a fairly straight course through the district is a waterway, sometimes lined with limestone, sometimes overgrown with willows and other creek-loving flora. Near the intersection of St. John’s Avenue and Northcrest, this tame stream — just puddles at this point — stops at an open drain pipe. Sarah and I suspect nearby springs because of the cottonwoods and other indicative trees in the area.

From there, Upper Upper Waller Creek meets a tiny tributary at the University Hills Optimist Club baseball field, which looks lifted from a small Texas town. It sneaks under Airport Boulevard near Huntland Drive and then zig-zags unnaturally over to a line parallel to Chesterfield Avenue, where I picked it up, running with clear water, at a pedestrian bridge attached to a tiny picnic area (pictured).

At West 55th Street, I spied a woman weeding the high banks of the creek. She recognized me. Jan Seward (pictured) is part of a volunteer group that is reclaiming little portions of the creek in her neighborhood. From there, the creek heads to state lands by Epoch Coffee and grows wilder alongside the University of Texas Intramural Fields.

By the time it reaches Rowena Street , it’s downright pretty. At 45th — where I assumed it began — it crosses the Shipe Playground and the grounds of the Elisabet Ney Museum. It becomes quite wooded as it approaches the Commodore Perry Estate and Hancock Golf Course, then eases through some graceful, upscale neighborhoods before becoming a public phenomenon on the University of Texas campus.

All this creek tracing was inspired by a short walk on Lower Waller Creek taken with philanthropists Tom and Lynn Meredith, as we discussed plans for the Waller Creek Conservancy downtown. All their work — and those of their collaborators — is deeply appreciated. But it’s also good to know the creek’s humble and authentically Austin origins.

Lily Ta and Dean Lofton

It was an honor to be among the very few male guests at the Very Smart Gals party at the Four Seasons Residences on Sunday. Among the the dozens of women were influencers like Lulu Flores, Deborah Tucker, Sarah Bird, Susan Longley, Lynn Meredith and Dean Lofton. Others were drawn from the communities of law, charity, education, arts, media, business, movies and music.

Lynn Meredith, Christy Pipkin and SueAnn Wade-Crouse

The centerpiece of the evening was a presentation by Christy Pipkin, who, with husband Turk Pipkin, has turned out three breakthrough documentaries — “Nobelity,” “One Peace at a Time” and “Building Hope.” She explained crisply and pointedly the couple’s collaborative work in Kenya, now expanding beyond the Mahiga Hope High School to other secondary schools.

Betsy Gerdeman and Yolette Garces

Over sumptuous desserts, I made mental notes of five or six possible column subjects. Maybe smartness is catching.

Many of the winning elements in this year’s party built on last year’s successes. This time, light artist Bart Kresa created three enfolding walls of projections that dazzled the eyes and made the vast banquet hall more intimate. Magically, the three walls also served as six video screens — and in a large hall, there can’t be too many.

David and Fawn Bull

Dell Children’s produces some of the sharpest charity videos in town — bright, professional, compelling. The medical center also uses personal testimony in an efficient and effective manner. The story of Kathryn Scarborough Bechtol and Hub Bechtol’s scare over their son’s traumatic accident, for instance, won’t soon be forgotten.

Of course, florist David Kurio and event planner Victoria Hentrich’s decor and staging set the scene, suggesting luxury without going over the top. (You don’t want anything that seriously undermines a charity’s net take.) The silent auction was handled by University of Texas Cowboys and Lassoes armed with iPads.

Bobbi and Mort Topfer

The live auction — in some ways the heart of any such gala — produced many tens of thousands of dollars for Dell Children’s, but went on too long. No fault of the auctioneer, just too many packages and too vast a crowd for a quick “paddles up.”

A nice touch: One waiter was assigned to each table, which made for a fluid interaction between guests and the evening’s many amusements. Even co-chairs Eric and Kay Moreland did a superb job navigating this ship of charitable state.

Brett and Debra Hurt

Table No. 4 packed a punch: Mort and Bobbi Topfer, Tom and Lynn Meredith, Brett and Debra Hurt, as a well as a couple whose name I didn’t catch. I spent most of the evening talking parties, politics, projects and more with Lynn and Bobbi.

All hail Armando Zambrano, the mastermind behind this masterpiece.

Veena Gangidi, Sumana Sen Mandala and Shahin Alvi

The Republic Day party was held at the Givens Recreation Center on far East 12th Street. Booths surrounded a seated area that faced the raised stage in this combination gym and performance area. For two hours during the five-hour affair, traditional music and dances alternated with speeches, proclamations and games.

Komal Bose and Koonal Bose

Needless to say, various elected and appointed officials spoke. I would, too, if I were running for anything. Austin’s Indian American population is growing rapidly. The community’s culture, history and variety are increasingly vital to everyone.

Sumina Bhatti, Sameer Shah and Sonia Kotecha

Sadly, I could not stay for dinner. I’m still making baby steps learning how to cook Indian cuisine. Pushpesh Pant’s massive cookbook is my current guide. Which brings to mind a pertinent question: What’s your favorite Indian restaurant in Austin? My fall-back is the Clay Pit.

First in front of the lens was Don Amendolia, who looked suitably wizardly even after playing the Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Then three pleasant but socially otherwise engaged young women posed for the column. Quick happy snaps.

After that, an energetic group of four approached the door. I separated them out. One actor wanted to check his look before I took his picture. Fine. Not in a hurry.

Don Amendolia and Shannon Boggus

So far, pretty normal for your social columnist. When I asked for the spelling of their names, however, one actor countered by demanding my credentials. How could he be sure that I wouldn’t misuse his image? After all, some of the cast had been stalked, he said.

Courtney Iventosch, Laran Snyder and Lindsay Wood

I was stumped. Out of business cards, I didn’t even think about the employee card in my wallet. The doorman, laughing at my social dilemma, intervened: “Yeah, that’s Michael Barnes with the newspaper.”

Zach Hensler and David Nathan Perlow

Just an actor being an actor. No hard feelings.

The next night, I headed to the YMCA on Ed Bluestein Boulevard for a kick-off event to Black History Month. When I arrived at the center, the place was swarming with young people playing and exercising. Normal. But where was the kick-off? Then I spied two men in suits, who kindly directed me to the reception.

It was not until later that I realized they were dressed almost identically, as were the other men in dark suits and smart ties outside the door of the gathering. I was asked to sign in, then overheard that I would be patted down for security reasons. What was going on?

The actual situation finally dawned on me when one of the suited men took me aside and said I could not use my camera or record anything at the event. My reporting would not be welcome at this Nation of Islam meeting.

Again, no hard feelings. Gotta read those digital invitations more closely. Everyone was exceedingly courteous, but what’s a reporter without reporting?

Headed from there to the Shoal Crossing Events Center, where Sterling Affairs Catering and Event Planning has teamed up with Austin Cabaret Theatre to present musical acts in the barn-like former dinner theater and clothing store.

In this case, when I use the term “barn-like,” it’s not a put-down, but rather a description of the building’s shape. Despite the high ceilings, it fits neatly the big cabaret talents that Stuart Moulton books.

Paul Beutel and Willa Kaye Warren

Sam Harris, veteran of “Star Search” on TV, “The Life” on Broadway and much more in a long career, appeared with Austin Cabaret Theatre years ago. His act has grown immensely. Still in ideal condition are his high, tensile voice and bright stage presence. What has matured is his patter, which reflects his full life on and off the stage, including an enduring friendship with Liza Minnelli.

I was there to check out the new space. I stayed because Harris is a cabaret sensation. And Austin audiences loves him.

Grace Hsieh and Casey Martinez

Even a little Austin happy hour for Epic turns magical. A couple hundred people showed up at Delta Millworks, a huge, old woodworking facility on East Fifth Street and Springdale Road. This space matched the outdoorsy attire of the Epic group on a chilly evening. (Thank goodness nobody smokes at such events. The place could become a tinderbox.)

Lindsay Hoffman and Andy Smith

Popping up unexpectedly were surreal wooden sculptures by Aldo Valdés Böhm, who keeps a workshop in the building. One was a odd duck the artist said had been hiding in his garage for years.

Maria Alonso, Angela James and Lorie Solis

Credit: Flashbax Twenty Three Photography

The crowd clearly didn’t want to leave, and so mingled, sipped and nibbled well past the usual happy hour. One of the cleverest scheduling tools for the leaders: A business card with the monthly Epic events listed on the back in a clear, compact format. To top the evening off, salt-of-the-earth Conservancy director George Cofer invited me to go camping or hiking with the group.

Hiking at one of the conserved ranches at least!

John and Ruby Alaniz

The Ronald Reagan Dinner for the Travis County Republican Party took place at the AT&T Executive Education and Conference Center. Smaller than the Johnson-Bentsen-Richards Dinner for the Travis County Democratic Party at the Four Seasons Hotel the previous week, it blended a range of ages, dress and customs.

Andy Barclay, Megan Hamilton and Will Hamilton

The honoree was Texas Attorney General Greg Abbott, but, as with the Democratic event, I didn’t stick around for the speeches. My part is the people. And the lobby of center’s banquet hall was full of fascinating folks who talked about travel, art, jobs, policy and legal mediation, but mostly politics.

Greg Ackerman and Mike Dominguez

Several candidates for office approached me, not just with open handshakes and big smiles, but ready to talk on just about any subject. A few were shaken by the uncertainty about redistricting — back in the hands of a San Antonio panel of judges — but none were shaken enough to express anything but confidence in their eventual electoral triumphs. That’s another thing to like about politicians: They breathe optimism.

Kevin Williamson and Ava Late

Luckie and Williamson are old nightlife hands, having opened their share of bars, clubs and restaurants in multiple entertainment districts. They were still putting finishing touches on the Texas-themed joint — comic murals, stuffed game, rattlesnake-skin-like banquettes, envisioned by designer Joel Mozersky — when the first guests arrived.

Michelle Valles and Jennifer Ransom Rice

Three distinct spaces allow customers a range of experiences. The heart of the place is a high-ceilinged ballroom with stage and enough floor space for a bit of dancing. The side bar feels more like a club house, filtered through an ironic sensibility about the Old West. Then there’s the immense rooftop deck, giving out to expansive views of the downtown skyline.

Eddie Safady and Olga Campos

Roof decks are in — I can think of at least 11 downtown — and this is among the most impressive, though it might get hot up there facing south and west during summer afternoons. Roof decks are for nights.

We ran into dozens of social regulars, but spent most of the time catching up with our dear friend Sean Massey, whose stepmother, collector and artist, Pat Brown, passed away from cancer early Monday. Her memorial will be delayed until the spring, so friends can converge on Austin from around the world.

“He told me more and more about his life,” Bryant remembers. “He believed society had no place for him, and he encouraged me to never give up.”

Austin native Bryant never did.

“I hope and pray that ‘our’ children — and they are our children — have a system built around them that measures their possibilities of success, rather than being defined by their failures,” says Bryant, who serves as chairwoman of the Texas Department of Family Protective Services Advisory Council, appointed successively to such positions by Govs. George W. Bush and Rick Perry. “It could be the difference in giving up, like my brother, or digging in and not letting go, like I had to do.”

On Feb. 11, Bryant, 54, will be honored at the Hyatt Regency Austin during CASAblanca, the annual gala for Court Appointed Special Advocates, which provides advocacy services for thousands of vulnerable children.

Bryant, head of GMSA Management Services, a consulting firm, and her husband, Sam Bryant, who founded Bryant Wealth Investment Group, are known for sharing their time and treasure generously, but selectively.

“I narrowed it down to education, foster youth and drug and alcohol rehabilitation,” Bryant says. “Those are things that affected my life and affect our society from birth to the ends of life.”

Bryant’s mother, the late Lola Mae Fowler, was locked up in the Austin State Hospital after she killed an intruder. There, she underwent shock treatments and suffered from mental illness for the rest of her life. Bryant and her three siblings were shuttled directly into “the system.”

“People treat kids differently when they find out you don’t have your parents,” she says. “It is as if you did something to make this happen, no matter your age. First they are sad, then they ask: ‘What did you do?’ I spent time explaining why I had no parents, until I decided it did not need explanation.”

After growing up, her older sister and younger sister wrote second life chapters in California and West Texas. Despite attempts by Bryant to keep in touch, they chose to part completely with their pasts. Given the inherent disjuncture of foster-care system, it’s no wonder.

“I’d find my stuff at the door and I knew we were going somewhere else,” Bryant says. “Once, I was on the track team and we had a track meet that weekend, and I remember begging and pleading with the lady to take me back so that I could run. I remember crying all night telling the new house that they needed me. I never knew what happened at the meet, but I can guess. All I could think about is how much they must have hated me that Saturday. I know no one explained that it was not my choice.”

Her brother ran away from the Waco State Home — subject of Sherry Matthews’ compelling book, “We Were Not Orphans” — into a life of petty crime. He was first accused of murder at age 17, imprisoned, then released. In 1982, he was convicted of capital murder and was executed in 1999. Bryant visited Rector in prison every Christmas and sometimes in the summer.

So how did Bryant escape her brother’s fate?

“My faith from my Big Mama, my grandmother’s mother,” she says. “And I knew love from my mother before entering the system. When we were younger, we used to go stay with Big Mama, mostly after school. She would hug us. She would kiss us. She would cook, pray with us, sing to us. She was the one who told me: ‘God loves you. Don’t ever be afraid to tell him what’s wrong.’

She also avoided one potential trap faced by so many foster children: No doctor ever prescribed Bryant behavorial medications.

“I just believe that God protected me,” she says. “He still does.”

Despite the teen pregnancy, Bryant studied computer science and then business at Austin Community College and St. Edward’s University. While in college, she worked full-time at the offices at the Texas Comptroller of Public Accounts, Texas Parks & Wildlife Department and the Texas Legislative Council. Meanwhile, she raised a family and volunteered at schools and in the community.

“I guess I never got enough,” jokes Bryant, who earned an MBA in global leadership at University of Texas-Dallas. She met Sam Bryant in 1993 while he was working for Applied Materials and she was organizing charity events and fundraisers.

“He was known as ‘Mr. Applied’ and was very nice,” she says. Their blended family includes her three adult children and his two adult offspring. All are thriving in college or careers.

Her most famous son is Marcus Wilkins, recruited for the Longhorns by Mack Brown and a veteran of the NFL. Gigi Bryant is blessed with five grandchildren.

Yet she constantly asks the question: Why not me? How did I get through the system and come out with this life? Bryant passes on this conclusion to anyone touched by foster care: “How you define yourself — through actions — has to be more important to you, so you can move past what should have been.”

Sandy Abel and Steve Redman

So I slowly headed down to West Sixth Street to cover the opening of an exhibition at Lytle Pressley Contemporary. Lytle Pressley surged ahead of the curve a few years ago, selling high-end, high-design furniture. His new shop — next to his old shop — includes less expensive pieces, say $1,200 for a sleek desk, although one can purchase another desk for three times that price.

Gina Brezini Michele Golden

Pressley has segregated the fine art — always a part of his mix — to a large, long, separate gallery. Folks pressed into this space to view the luscious — almost voluptuous — mixed-media wall art of Bulgarian ex-pat Gina Brezini. I spent some time with Brezini, now based in New York City. She gathers photos, leaves and other objects and drenches them with a shiny resin for a highly polished finish. First-nighters I talked to also really liked her deep, radiant colors.

William Grieder and Hana Bakkar

It was time for another function and Facebook Events came to the rescue. It pointed me to a benefit for Colin’s Hope, the group that promotes water safety in memory of the late Colin Holst. The Best Day Ever Bash combined many of the elements of any Austin benefit, including live music, silent auction and a slew of people just enjoying themselves.

Will Reedy and Rachel Villanueva

It took place at Empire Automotive Warehouse, the open-air venue next to Sidebar on East Seventh Street. It’s not quite La Zona Rosa, but you get the idea. Love the adaptive reuse of any urban general utility space.

Michelle Marshall and Minh Tran

Talked with some of the supporters, several of whom were young parents whose concerns were clear: That everyone learn to swim and inculcate the lessons of water safety. Jan. 28, Olympians Brendan Hansen, Kathleen Hersey and Garrett Weber-Gale are hosting Colin’s Hope Got2Swim Clinic is for kids ages 7 and up at Nitro Swimming (Bee Cave).

Mark and Amy Brady

Time for another event. Earlier in the day, former State Rep. Diana Maldonado invited me to her birthday salute at Maria Maria. Several other legislators planned to attend. I arrived at the Carlos Santana-themed restaurant and bar just before 9 p.m.

The place was overrun. It felt like a California crowd, with a lively mix of patrons, many in their twenties and thirties. As I explored, it turns out Maria Maria is much larger than I had remembered, including three distinct rooms and two crush bars. Glad to see that business is booming.

But no Maldonado. I waited a while. Then realized I could wish her the best later. We see each other periodically. And so I headed home.

Gary Cooper and Richard Hartgrove

Next we noted the page dedicated to the Butler Society, named after Sarah and Ernest Butler , the school’s chief benefactors. The giving level starts at $1 million. And there are six givers in that category, including (but counting as just two) Jeff and Gail Kodosky and Joe R. and Teresa Lozano Long. Again, how many …

Paula and Paul Angerstein

The nearly full Bates Recital Hall offered another clue as to the success of the Butler School. Here, guests ranging from their twenties to their eighties cheered and cheered and cheered the Miró Quartet and Anton Nel as they performed Samuel Barber, Antonín Dvorák, Edward Elgar and a rousing encore from Robert Schumann.

Joanne and Jack Crosby

It turned out a long chamber concert at more than two hours, but worth every minute of it. The audience could not be torn away from the intricately woven themes and variations. Special attention was paid to newish Miró violinist William Fedkenheuer and guest pianist Nel, whose legions of admirers were well represented in the house.

Nancy Price Bowman led the Junior League, sat on the Austin Parks Foundation board, and helped out with Wild Basin Natural Preserve and We Care. I got to know her as president of the Austin History Center Association, where she always welcomed me with a broad smile. I hope the association salutes her during its upcoming Angelina Eberly Luncheon.

Charles Gentry spread good will across many organizations. He also helped a coterie of friends with his sometimes shy, sometimes gregarious personality. He was among the first to move downtown when the tall towers rose and could be spotted at numberless social affairs in the central city. A memorial gathering will take place on the pool deck of the 360 Condominiums at 4 p.m. on Jan. 22.

Two (almost) viral videos make the point neatly.

In “Do You Remember Austin (Back in the Good Old Days)?” images of pre-21st-century Austin from the listless postwar years through the subsequent Armadillo World Headquarters era flash by as Carlos Machiste chants songwriter Gregg Ronald Geil’s heartfelt list of people, places and trends gone by.

Precisely the same list could have been compiled almost 30 years ago.

Old eateries like Nighthawk and Taco Flats pop up. So do standard Austin retreats such as Hippie Hollow, Palmer Auditorium, Dry Creek Saloon and the Pier. Stores like Rylander’s, Minimax and Joske’s make appearances.

Also prominently featured are local media personalities like Neal Spelce, Cactus Pryor and Ellie Rucker.

One detail jumped out: The obsession with driving distances to buy Coors beer before it was widely distributed. Had forgotten about that.

Another jolt: That one of Aqua Fest’s ethnic nights was devoted to Czechs. Anybody else remember when Czech was the fourth most spoken language in Texas?

“Those old times here were special here, I’m telling you all” goes the refrain.

Hit count so far: More than 33,000.

“(Expletive) Austinites Say” from Possumbox Productions is simple, direct, following the formula of previous similar videos.

Mostly shaggy young men — is there any other kind in Austin? — string together the same syllables we’ve heard a million times.

Same phrases have to do with music: “What do you play?” … “What are you doing for South By?” … “Yeah, I feel like I’m gonna quit my band.”

Others loop back to our grand social correctness: “You did get that dog at the shelter, right?” … “I’m not like religious, but I’m spiritual.” … “This city needs more bike lanes.”

Tech and media figure in: “This is, like, my third start-up, so all I need is some angel funding.” … “I was an extra on ‘Friday Night Lights.” “Me, too!’”

Local pronunciations of Guadalupe, Manor and Manchaca receive emphatic endorsements.

Perhaps the most effective character worries about the drought in a raspy voice.

One scene that struck particularly close to home was set at the American-Statesman’s bat-watching area near the Ann Richards Congress Avenue Bridge.

How many times have you said this: “I don’t know — there’s usually a lot more bats.”

And yes, with very few exceptions, these phrases were spoken with regularity three decades previous.

Hit count so far: More than 172,000.

Nine semi-finalists will be announced on Jan. 30, culled from 31 top design firms from around the world. The design competition and determination of construction costs should cost $1.5 million, Meredith says, by the time it is completed in October.

Based on preliminary estimates, Meredith guesses it will cost $60 million to $75 million to execute the eventual creekside plan, that on top of the $146.5 million the city and county are spending on the flood-averting tunnel that makes it all possible.

I recently walked part of Waller Creek with Tom Meredith and his wife Lynn Meredith (pictured). We picked our way around various obstacles, pointing out wildlife and trying to imagine what might come next. The former Dell Inc. executive and his equally engaged partner devote themselves to countless worthy causes. Lynn Meredith, for example, is a major force behind plans to build the next Austin Children’s Museum at the Mueller Development.

Clearly, the Conservancy represents something crucial for the couple, perhaps because it affects almost everything that is definitional about downtown Austin.

“I have always been attracted to the great outdoors,” Tom Meredith says. “I quickly realized Waller Creek could be a catalyst for downtown renewal, especially considering that the tunnel will remove (about) 28 acres from the floodplain; was in a state of atrophy and we need to restore and protect it; represents a mechanism that can re-connect east and west and north and south Austin; and could be a magnet that draws people from far and wide.”

Inspired by efforts in other cities, such as those that rescued Central Park and created the hugely popular High Line Park in New York City, Meredith is not the type to stand by idly.

“Being a bystander just did not seem very appealing,” he says. “Waller Creek is a lot safer than I had imagined. I now walk it fairly regularly. While it evidences aspects of a tough life for some in our community, it is poignant and profound and beautiful in part.”

The loyal Out & About reader might have already guessed that I’ve explored Waller Creek pretty much from its headwaters above 45st Street to the Colorado River, where a sandy triangle of sediment has formed an island since my first strolls there in the early 1980s. I had always wondered why 1970s-era stonework along the lower creek — decorative bridges, walkways, embankments — seemed partially wrecked and abandoned by the public.

“They were built with the understanding that a 100-year floodplain meant that the next flood would come in 100 years,” Tom Meredith says. “It came in 1981.”

A few weeks after our chatty walk, a group of 50 or so sat around dinner tables at the Meredith penthouse atop the Four Seasons Residences. They met the jurors tasked with narrowing the field of design firms to nine. Besides the Merediths, Ted and Melba Whatley and Melanie and Ben Barnes, present were Teresa and Joe Long, Julie Blakeslee and John Spong, Mickey and Jeanne Klein, Sue Edwards and David Bodenman, Rudy Green and Joyce Christian, Suzanne Booth, Eddie Safady, Ted Siff, Chris Mattsson and Charlie Betts.

Tom Meredith introduced Donald Stastny, founder and CEO of StastnyBrun Architects, Inc., who is heading up the competition. “It’s rare that you have a chance to change the face of a city forever,” Stastny said. “If we are successful, this will be the heart of the city.”

Juror and real estate expert John H Alschuler, Jr. knows how to use open space to incentivize development. “You have a diamond encrusted in coal,” Alschuler said. Of the design firms that applied: “You have attracted the best talent in the world”

“This is a momentous occasion,” said juror Carlos Jimenez, who is particularly interested in culture and the memory of a place. On Waller Creek: “It has been buried and cauterized by the violence of develpment.”

At our table, juror Marsha Maytum talked about adaptive use and universval design that might attract all Austin residents and out-of towners: “This has been like an archeological dig,” she said about the process so far. “You have to be the champions of this project.”

Juror Darrel Morrison emphasized introducing the right kind of plants, while distinguished landscape architect Richard Haag said: “We are joined together in a great adventure for the health, wellness and love of Austin.”

University of Texas professor Allan W. Shearer, an alternate juror and stalwart project supporter, predicted a beautiful, elegant solution, embracing the concept: “Tell me your landscape and I’ll tell you who you are.”

Still, the most powerful moment of the evening was reserved for urban planner Jennifer Mannhard, a Portland resident who grew up off MoPac (Loop 1) in North Austin.

“Thus was a place I was not allowed to go as a kid,” she said, choking up and cutting short her planned speech. “I cant wait to see what it becomes.”

Correction: A previous version of this post had an incorrect first name for John Spong. David Bodenman and Julie Blakeslee’s last name were misspelled.

Nancy Pelosi and Donna Howard

Pelosi served as keynote speaker at the Johnson-Bentsen-Richards Dinner for the Travis County Democratic Party at the Four Seasons Hotel on Sunday. The benefit was meticulously organized and rigidly hierarchical. Big donors squeezed into the VVIP lounge upstairs; mid-level types crowded into the larger reception room downstairs; while others were left to wander the lobbies leading to the banquet room. (At least one judge was turned, gently, away from the middle room.)

Osita and Rae Nwosu

The dinner lionized former Texas Lieutenant Gov. Ben Barnes, now an enormously influential consultant. Barnes doesn’t lend his name to just any group — Boys & Girls Clubs of the Austin Area is a rare exception — but he bore his laurels with dignity on Sunday. He introduced me to Madame Speaker as if sparking up a casual acquaintance on the street.

Ben Barnes and Ben Sargent

Of course, the place was packed with Dems. I spoke at length with Dr. Jay Stein, formerly of Baylor College of Medicine, University of Rochester Medical Center and University of Texas Health Science Center at San Antonio. Naturally, he spoke in calculated cadences about the campaign to bring a medical school to town, so I encouraged him to write up some of his thoughts for our Insight section.

For a brief time, I regretted making a previous engagement to share gumbo and bread pudding with our friends Christine Perrault Moline and Terrence Moline, recently returned from Belize and Guatemala, at the same time as the Dem dinner. Yet as soon as Kip and I arrived at their home near McCallum High School, we entered conversational and gustatory paradise.

Non, je ne regrette rien.

Kay Morris and Joy Authur

It began at the VIP Pre-Party for Marathon Kids at the InterContinental Stephen F. Austin Hotel. After snagging likenessess of party chairwomen Mary Herr Tally and Maria Groten, as well as Marathon Kids founder Kay Morris and the group’s national development director, Joy Authur, I tried a third duo, only to find that this handsome pair looked somewhat askew as captured by my little Canon PowerShot lens.

Mary Herr Tally and Maria Groten

Obvious resolution: I didn’t publish them. The next challenge was to catch the stars of the subsequent concert at the Paramount Theatre: Lyle Lovett and Shawn Colvin. Love ‘em both. I stationed myself near the door of the Stephen F.’s ballroom while Authur fed me updates as to their progress toward the crowd.

Shawn Colvin and Lyle Lovett

Celebrity shots on the run are tough to make. Colvin looked dismayed when I asked for a picture to put in the newspaper, but after brushing aside some stray locks, she braved the camera. Lovett couldn’t help teasing me that I was shooting for the Statesman with such a tiny camera. “Such is the state of journalism,” I shot back in good humor.

Leslie Wingo and Darrell Windham

My next stop: the Jones Center, downtown home for the newly merged and temporarily named AMOA-Arthouse. (Branding to come, everyone assured me.) The place looked spectacular, and the staff wisely kept the food and drink away from the marquee exhibitions. The first of the expected hundreds of art lovers filtered in.

Facundo Argañaraz and Nicole Crescenzi

The art proved a bit thin and the wall texts a bit thick, so after a quick tour of the upstairs and downstairs galleries, I concentrated on the people. Folks were quick to pick up conversations, but I found the blinding white of the galleries tough on the happy snaps (with the simple Canon, dark backgrounds usually work best).

Julia Clark and Tatiana Artis

Along the way, I met a convivial couple from San Francisco, Facundo Argañaraz and Nicole Crescenzi, who kindly tapped the spellings of their names into my iPhone. Turns out Argañaraz is Basque, and he produced some of the most intriguing work on the walls.

Everyone seemed to agree that the merger of Arthouse and Austin Museum of Art is a good idea, for now, but what will come of it? Reports from the Jones Center and Laguna Gloria sound promising, at least in terms of audience interest.

Alex and Eli Winkelman

From there, I headed to the Highball, where publisher and philanthropist Marc Winkelman celebrated his 55th birthday, while colleague Paul Hoffman marked his 45th. (See: A neat 100 between them.)

Marty Hancock, Khotso Khabele and Kari Arfstrom

Besides the fabulous Winkelman family, the place was packed with Austin biggies, including every elected Democrat from San Antonio to Waco. Backers of Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and President Barak Obama, the Winkelmans’ political and social reach is broad and deep. (Didn’t get a chance to find out what they think of the trial ballon of a Clinton vice-presidential bid.)

Bill Spelman and Rick Cofer

Off in one banquette, overseen by Jeanne and Mickey Klein, were a quiet yet familiar couple. Turns out it was Rep. Gabby Giffords and astronaut husband Mark Kelly. Kelly gently turned down my request for a photo and almost immediately, Giffords reached out and took my hand, not to shake it, but to make contact. I was touched.

Policy, of course, came up in several conversations, including one with prosecutor Rick Cofer and Austin City Council Member Bill Spelman. I always appreciate what smart people say away from the microphone and, no, I won’t put any of it on the record.

Daniel Mahoney and Bennett Ford

The next night, we celebrated the 50th birthday of Tribeza publisher George T. Elliman. The party was the first non-fundraiser I’d attended at the prismatic home of Dr. John Hogg and David Garza. The West Lake Hills modern with the complementary baroque art and Tiffany views looks better every time I visit.

Betsy Clemons and Chris Knapp

A feast was laid out by 34th Street Cafe and Catering’s owner Eddie Bernal. He talked to me on the side about the process of changing La Sombra, one of his eateries, into an Italian restaurant. “People have been asking me to do Italian for years,” Bernal says. “I finally put the right team together.”

Lisa Jasper and Lauren Smith Ford

Top socials and representatives from media, fashion and the arts toasted Elliman, who grew up in the River Oaks area of Houston, then attended school in the Northeast. I spoke with his mother and with some childhood friends, which turned up stories that, while perfectly chaste, will remain unpublished.

Back to photographs. I took a few, but I was there to have fun at this private party. As the casual affair — some were dressed to the 1962 nines — lasted longer and got louder (in some corners) Mary Pat Mueller took photographs, candid and posed, that she posted later that night on Facebook.

Kindly, she published ones of your columnist that were fairly flattering. (I’m better behind the camera.) Still, it’s a healthy reminder to always do the same for my Canon subjects.

Grace Crews (Miss Rodeo Texas Teen 2011), Fred Weber (2012 Rodeo Austin President) and Malinda Crews (Grace’s mom)

While we are waiting for a copy, let’s thank Rodeo Austin and its president, Fred Weber, for a winter luncheon at the Driskill Hotel. Attending were the men of the rodeo’s executive committee, as well as political office holders and the media. Former KVET radio jock and robustly good guy Bob Cole guided the affair from the dais, while unflagging Kevin Fowler announced the marquee acts in a year that will showcase at least 100 Texas artists.

Travis County Sheriff Greg Hamilton and Kevin Fowler

While I’m personally attracted to rodeo as a sport, a diversion, a big party and a key cultural legacy of my state, the leadership of Rodeo Austin tends to emphasize its charitable role in passing out scholarships (see previous posts on that subject) and its economic impact in numbers and superlatives that are hard to keep straight from year to year (fifth largest rodeo? fifth largest indoor rodeo? fifth fastest-growing rodeo? etc.).

The rodeo is the rodeo. Let’s just enjoy that. I do.

Photos courtesy of Rodeo Austin