You Ain't From Around Here are Ya, Boy?

In this month's issue of Texas Monthly, Evan Smith, the editor of that fine magazine, touched on a point that never ceases to light a fire under me, in his column. The Question of One's Texanness Mr. Smith, I feel your pain. I for one, am pretty sick and tired of those self righteous, "I was born here, You weren't...So go Home!" types like Mr. Dick Reavis, who is cited in the editorial. This kind of attitude never fails to get my rankles up. I dunno why, all these types are showing is their foolishness. But I can't help it. I've been dealing with these dudes for almost thirty years now, and that crap still gets under my skin. Mr. Smith, I know this because I ran into one of these guys a few weeks ago during a visit on the annual Holiday Model Railroading tour in Houston. "Wish all you folks would go back to where ever the Hell you came from!" Made my blood boil it did. If I hadn't been standing in his train room at the time, having a conversation with another transplanted Texan, who was doing this dude's scenery on his layout, a shouting match probably would have ensued. Instead I bit my tongue and muttered under my breath, "I've been here 30 years and I ain't goin' anywhere!" Scenery guy looked me in the eye and winked. I could tell I was flushed. No, I wasn't born in Texas, but I got here as fast as I could. I was born in North Chicago. Not as bad as New York (according to some of these dudes). How I ended up in Texas is probably a story in itself, but for the sake of I've got other stuff to do today, I'll be (relatively) brief. My dad was military, so we moved every two to three years. So I've got high mileage. Our last station was at NAS JAX in Jacksonville, FLA. Dad had the good sense to die while still on active duty there, leaving my Mom to raise me and my two little sisters by herself. Never one to avoid trouble I managed to get in some. Trouble was not hard to find in Northeast Florida in the 1970's. So I was able to find some. Well, alot of trouble actually. Suffice it to say I was a real handful. Not my Mom's fault...She did her best. I was a rotten spoiled kid. I managed to graduate from NB Forrest High School (on the west side of Jacksonville) in June 1976 in spite of myself. I wasn't stupid, just the opposite in fact. I was so smart in fact, the great state of Florida asked me to leave. They didn't care where I went, JUST GO! NOW! I had been in contact with a friend that had graduated a year or so before me. He, like me had been a troubled adolescent and after a stint in the military, ended up on Houston's East End. I jumped off the bus at the Greyhound station in Houston, one muggy night in late 1976 or early 1977. And I've been here ever since. I met the Queen, also not a native, in Texas. Our three kids were all born here. I've made a life for myself (and others) here. If I had stayed where I was, I'd most likely be dead at this point. Long ago. Instead I came here, to the land of opportunity and carved out a productive life. One that my forebears would be (mostly) proud of... I'm with you, Evan! Texan by choice!