The town of Castroville lies west of San Antonio, beyond rolling farmland, bounded on three sides by a cypress-shaded horseshoe of the Medina River—dry now from long drought—and on the fourth by a brushy escarpment. A single hill advances into the city, crowned with a cross, sheltering the regional park on one side and the church cemetery on the other.
If you mention Castroville to someone who’s driven through, they’ll likely bring up Haby’s Alsatian Bakery, founded in 1940 by Stanley Haby. It stands on the highway opposite Sammy’s Restaurant, named for its first owner, Sammy Tschirhart, who also purchased the bakery in the ’70s. They’re local landmarks.
My parents knew little more than that when they moved us to Castroville from San Antonio in 1989. My mother had a memory of looking down on it from the hills and thinking, What a lovely place to live. They built our house on a lot that had once held horses. A rusty shoe we found still hangs over the front door.
