IT'S SOUTHERN, BY GOD
"Texas has yet to learn submission to any oppression, come from what source it may."
- Sam Houston, 1st President of Texas (1836-38, 1841-44)
I think by now I have made it pretty clear that I am from the southern part of our great country. Now, I've had folks point out quite bluntly that Texas is NOT a Southern state. They place a finger at it on a map and swear that it is a southwestern state. I beg to differ.
Texas history was drummed into all of our little pointed heads from the beginning of school classes. The stories of my own, and other, families who settled on that sandy soil when it still belonged to Mexico, point out the facts to me. Although Sam Houston, the first president of what was a seperate country/republic back then, was from Tennessee, I am sure he was a Texan at heart. He loved the South but was broken hearted when our state joined the Confederacy and went to war against the aggressors from the North. Hear up, folks, they fought for their states rights as a Southern state.
My relatives had arrived in Texas in 1824. Coming from Mississippi and Georgia, they had answered a call from Stephen F. Austin to populate the area. All of my people were Southerners; they created a new republic that eventually became a new Southern state upon joining the Union. Some of my relatives fought and died for the Confederacy. Pure Southern in God's eye.
My Southern state is the only one in the United States that, upon agreeing to become a part of the larger country, retained the right to fly the state flag on the same level as the Stars and Stripes. I still see that done when I visit my home state. That stubborness makes them Southern in most anyone's book.
I haven't lived in the South for thirty years but my heart's still there. I yearn to hear the slow drawl that show's we're kin. My cooking hints at that area's flavor. My eyes mist at the sound of gospel hymns sung in one of those country churches in the middle of a field in Central Texas, reminding me of those baptisms in a creek in East Texas. I secretly root for all Southern teams in sports events. The fondest memories I have as a child is of sunny days spent on the side of a creek bank, cane pole in hand, grandpa Daddy Joe by my side, fishing for those tiny perch grandma would fry in an iron skillet over a hot open fire--just for me.
Some of the South has been brought home to me here in Southern (you do know there is a profound difference in the two distinct sections of this state, don't you?)California in the past few years. The supermarket chains out here have finally wised up and stocked two commodities most precious to we transplanted Texans--
Dr. Pepper (TM) and moon pies.
TIP: Clear your mind. Be open. Let your writing surprise you.
PROMPT: Who is that bag lady you see at the corner of 2nd and Broadway each morning? Write her story.
- Sam Houston, 1st President of Texas (1836-38, 1841-44)
I think by now I have made it pretty clear that I am from the southern part of our great country. Now, I've had folks point out quite bluntly that Texas is NOT a Southern state. They place a finger at it on a map and swear that it is a southwestern state. I beg to differ.
Texas history was drummed into all of our little pointed heads from the beginning of school classes. The stories of my own, and other, families who settled on that sandy soil when it still belonged to Mexico, point out the facts to me. Although Sam Houston, the first president of what was a seperate country/republic back then, was from Tennessee, I am sure he was a Texan at heart. He loved the South but was broken hearted when our state joined the Confederacy and went to war against the aggressors from the North. Hear up, folks, they fought for their states rights as a Southern state.
My relatives had arrived in Texas in 1824. Coming from Mississippi and Georgia, they had answered a call from Stephen F. Austin to populate the area. All of my people were Southerners; they created a new republic that eventually became a new Southern state upon joining the Union. Some of my relatives fought and died for the Confederacy. Pure Southern in God's eye.
My Southern state is the only one in the United States that, upon agreeing to become a part of the larger country, retained the right to fly the state flag on the same level as the Stars and Stripes. I still see that done when I visit my home state. That stubborness makes them Southern in most anyone's book.
I haven't lived in the South for thirty years but my heart's still there. I yearn to hear the slow drawl that show's we're kin. My cooking hints at that area's flavor. My eyes mist at the sound of gospel hymns sung in one of those country churches in the middle of a field in Central Texas, reminding me of those baptisms in a creek in East Texas. I secretly root for all Southern teams in sports events. The fondest memories I have as a child is of sunny days spent on the side of a creek bank, cane pole in hand, grandpa Daddy Joe by my side, fishing for those tiny perch grandma would fry in an iron skillet over a hot open fire--just for me.
Some of the South has been brought home to me here in Southern (you do know there is a profound difference in the two distinct sections of this state, don't you?)California in the past few years. The supermarket chains out here have finally wised up and stocked two commodities most precious to we transplanted Texans--
Dr. Pepper (TM) and moon pies.
TIP: Clear your mind. Be open. Let your writing surprise you.
PROMPT: Who is that bag lady you see at the corner of 2nd and Broadway each morning? Write her story.
posted by Barb | 11:12 AM
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