The Yellow Rose of Texas

My blog is one year old today! There will be no party at Chuck E. Cheese or special photo shoot at Olan Mills. I’m celebrating by sitting down at my desk and writing something. I haven’t been inspired to write lately, but this email from my brother John, of “The Shiny Spoon” fame, got me thinking about my life here in Texas.

Sent: Sun., Jan. 17, 2010 (during the Cowboys/Vikings game)
To: Donna
Subject: Oh, the yellow rose of Texas!

My Dear Sister,

Years ago when you moved to Texas I quietly thought, “It's just a work related move and only temporary; she won't stay.” Then after many years and still living in Texas you became a Texas Longhorn fan and I thought, “Why not? It's great fun to have a winner to cheer about; and after all it's Robert's college and it won't last past Robert's graduation.”

Last Friday you really shocked me when you said, "John, I'm becoming a Dallas Cowboys fan.” In shock and panic and disbelief I fell to my knees and looked up to the heaven's and I shouted, "Lord God Almighty, what have you done? You've let my beloved sister become a Texan.”

Love, John

Let me explain. . .

1970: To my “native Texan” friends, please try to understand his perspective. John’s only extended stay in Texas was for basic training during the Vietnam War. His 1970 military draft lottery number was 31, so that bad boy was going into the military whether he wanted to or not. He chose to enlist in the Air Force rather than be drafted, and wound up in San Antonio. It was not a happy place, nor was it a happy time.

1974: My U.S. Marine husband got orders to NAS Kingsville, Texas as an instructor in advanced jets at the Naval Air Training Station there. I transferred from San Diego to Dallas/Ft. Worth and commuted back and forth to Kingsville on Braniff Airways for three l-o-n-g years. Oh, but we were miserable there! When Jim got orders back to California, it was the happiest day of our lives. We swore never to return to Texas after that.

1979: Zoom ahead a few years and my fellow American Airlines employees might recall when our corporation moved its headquarters from New York to Texas. Remember “Death Before Dallas” bumper stickers and T-shirts? AA employees from all over the United States fought and hated that move. Texas was a big, mysterious, wild place—the frontier, (or the moon), to much of the rest of the country. Remember the Texas marketing slogan: “Texas—It’s like a whole other country?”

1988: Jim left the military, was hired by Continental Airlines and wound up based in Houston. After a few years of his commuting from southern California, another move to Texas seemed like an intelligent choice, since that would put us both living and working in the same state. I transferred to our Dallas/Ft. Worth base again, we packed up the soon-to-be-one-year-old Robert, and moved back to Texas.

1993: As Robert grew older, I faithfully reminded him that he was a California boy. One day at the tender age of five, he looked up at the Texas flag waving above his elementary school and announced as we drove by, "Mom, I love the 'lonely' star flag. I think I'm a Texan." Broke my heart, it did! But it also got me thinking about my own attitude. Perhaps if I spent a little less energy hating the place, I might find I actually liked something about it.

Dear John. . .

And to all you natives that I may have offended here, to my fellow Texas immigrants, and the rest: Yes, the weather sucks; the place is full of rabid right wingers, guns, and rattlesnakes; and our governor is known for his good hair and stupid comments. But it’s been the best place to raise a kid, there’s no state income tax, our home is worth what it’s worth, and there’s no salt rust on my six-year-old car. Ahm fixin’ tuh stay a spell.

Note to John: Come visit. You'd be surprised. Make sure it's not in July or August, though. It gits kinda warm here.

Love and thanks for the inspiration,
Donna

I Feel Like a Woman

Our son Robert has always brought us laughter along with all the other joys a good kid brings his family. And he’s always been an appreciative kid—grateful for the things we were able to provide him. Because of this we sometimes got a little carried away at Christmas and birthdays and were perhaps a little over indulgent at times.

Those of us who have raised a child from zero to adulthood in the past 25 years have had the fortune (or misfortune) of having to keep up as more and more sophisticated and expensive electronic toys and games were designed and marketed. We had to buy the latest Nintendo and keep buying as more advanced gear came along. Otherwise our children’s fragile little psyches might be permanently damaged. I defy one single parent out there to tell me that they never got sucked into the old “but everyone else has one,” ploy.

Our son is twenty-two now and I think we're well past that stage of life. We still get a little carried away with the presents, and this Christmas was no different. In addition to electronic games for his Xbox and computer, and clothes that are in keeping with his new, post-college man image, we bought him some useful electronic things for his new apartment. We didn’t go overboard on the “useful” things—just a vacuum cleaner and a steam iron.

“Nothing's as mean as giving a little child something useful for Christmas.” ~Kin Hubbard

“Oh, good!” he said when he tore the Christmas wrap off the box with the iron inside. “I can really use that.” Then he unwrapped the big box with the vacuum cleaner in it. “So this is what it feels like to be a woman at Christmas,” he announced totally deadpan. Jim and I laughed so hard we cried. Welcome to the world of grownups, Robert!

Donna