On the snowy, northeastern Christmas of my 11th year, our parents gathered all five kids around the kitchen table to deliver the news.
We were moving to San Antonio, Texas.
I was devastated. Texas? I imagined what our new home would look like.
We’d be miles from any neighbors — who would all look like they walked straight off the “Hee Haw” set — with a dusty, rock-filled front yard punctuated by the occasional tumbleweed rolling by.