I am uncertain as to the origin of my hesitancy in becoming
a Texan. I have lived here 30 years in
various Texas cities and towns, both large and small: Galveston after
completion of grad school, Wichita Falls and Big Spring while employed with the
State. The bulk of my time has been in the Dallas vicinity (we Texans refer to
it as “DFW” or “the metroplex.”).
Prior to relocating to Texas, I admittedly perceived Texas
to be one enormous desert with tumbleweed blowing across the road. A place
where everyone drove a pick up and every woman had big blond hair. I had heard that it is so hot in Texas summers
you could literally fry an egg on the sidewalk. I envisioned a lot of guns, and oil wells
dotting the land. I saw Texas as a place where people were a bit too loud and a
bit too proud.
Now, having lived in
Texas longer than anywhere else, I must say that there is a kernel of truth to
these perceptions. The “Everything is bigger in Texas” is more fact than
fiction:
1. The
State of Texas is close to the geographic size of Europe.
2. Texas is the second largest state in the U.S. (Alaska wins this distinction).
3. Texas became its own country for 9 years when it seceded
from the United States (1836-1845).
4 Although
chili has the distinction of being the state food of Texas, I am certain BBQ is
a close number two.
5. There are oil wells (mostly in west Texas) and
it seems that nearly every Texan owns at least one gun.
Here’s the thing though, for better or worse, I do consider
myself a Texan. I don’t own a pick up or a gun, although more family and friends
do than do not. I have had tumbleweed
get stuck in the grill of my car while traveling in Texas. It does seem that 4 out of 5 women you see are
blonds (having auburn hair makes me stand out a bit, so I can’t
complain). I love BBQ and the fact that
Texas offers so many varieties. And admittedly it isn't just hot in the summers,
it is scalding hot. Fortunately, we do have air conditioning (a large portion
is now solar, and wind generated).
I knew I had become, a bit hesitantly, a true Texan a few
years back. I had gone on a road trip
and upon my return crossed the Texas state line. It was dusk, and the sky was a vivid magenta,
carrot orange and indigo blue. There was an enormous sign that read “Welcome to
Texas. Drive friendly, the Texas way.” I never knew I was homesick for Texas until I
saw that sunset, those wide-open spaces and that sign that welcomed all who
entered.
