To Be or Not To Be (a Texan)

In Septemeber, 2020, Melanie and I moved to Texas after living in Chicago for 35 years. Before Chicago, it was Orange County, CA for five years and before that was Atwater for my first two decades. When I write that, I feel old. But I digress.

Atwater was small-town life, mostly idyllic as a child. It was safe and easy, with all the accoutrements of rural life in the 60’s and 70’s. Fullerton (and a few other cities) had all the entertainment you could want. Sports, beaches, food, big city trappings in a suburban bubble. Chicago (actually the Northwest suburbs) was an awesome experience, save for the winters. Melanie and I grew a family there. I learned about teaching and coaching and met some lifelong friends. We grew to love our adventures in the city.

Now, I live in Texas. Recently, someone asked if I’m a real Texan now. I started to answer, stopped, and finally said, “I guess so?” In my four years here, I have learned some of the criteria for Real Texan. Let’s see how I stack up.

Texans not only love their bbq, they argue about it, dissecting the nuances of various restaurants–food quality, variety, cost, crowds, environment, service. My buddy Keith introduced me to several joints on our monthly smoked meat tour. While Hutchins is my fave, I’ll happily take Pecan Lodge, Terry Blacks, or a dozen other places. Brisket is king here, but ribs and chicken and sausage and side dishes matter too. I’ve eaten more bbq since 2020 than my 60 years before moving here. We can check this box.

Texas weather is extreme. In four years, we’ve seen severe winter freezes, hailstones like golf balls, twisters, violent winds with thunderstorms. In addition, the summers feature searing heat, a good reason to escape in August to almost anywhere not here. Texans are acutely aware of weather and possible changes. They are a bit paranoid, but it’s well earned given the temperamental nature. California weather was entirely predictable. Chicago changed often but not the extremes we see here. I check weather.com multiple times every day and engage in all manner of conversations. “Temps dropping twenty degrees on Saturday and winds picking up. Be careful out there.” Check that box.

Texans love all things Texas and they have a flag for every possible event. The local Rotary Club plants a flag in my front yard for every national holiday. Not only is the state flag flown everywhere, but houses advertise their college choices. Just learning the college initials is a challenge. A&M, UT, UTEP, UTSA, UTD, UTA, BU, DBC, SMU, just to name a few. Folks here speak in alphabet soup.

My ignorance is on full display because I teach at Collin College (CC). “Where will you transfer?” I ask.

“Either UT or BU, but I want to get into SMU. First, I need my AA, then it’s a BA, maybe even an MBA.” I nod and quickly change the subject. At least I’ve learned what the Texas flag looks like. I still can’t identify the IL state flag. Give me an incomplete on this one.

Guns in Texas, not just a stereotype. A common sight is a man or woman packing heat, which actually makes me feel safer. I’m not sure what Texans love more: owning guns or teaching newbies how to shoot. I’ve been to the gun range three times so far, with more to come. No, I don’t own a gun, but I may in the future. I think Melanie wants a cute purple handgun. Big checkmark in this box.

But the drivers in Texas! Oh my. I’ve navigated packed LA freeways, all of them. Let’s talk about I-5. Or the 57 or 91, 22, 55, 10 or any of the others. Multiple times, I traversed the Grapevine in a Chevette! On to Chicago, I learned to drive among some of the most aggressive and lived to tell the tale. They’ll cut you off in a blizzard, nary a blinker and never an apology. As a pedestrian, you cross Chicago streets knowing that taxi has no intention of slowing down and red lights aren’t really red for a full five seconds. Never had an accident in Chicago or LA.

I say this with full conviction and respect. Texas drivers are the worst. Fast traffic in the left lane? Nah, not necessary. Freeway drivers speed ranges from 55 to 90 with random lane assignments. If Chicago driving is Grand Prix, Texas driving is more like Frogger.

Texans are sweet and kind for certain, sometimes to a fault. Sure, they’ll let you merge, but they may cause an accident with their politeness. Texas drivers stop for anyone and anything crossing a street. My brain is wired to survival of the fittest on the road. That bunny should have known better than to cut across my lane. Here, I have no idea what other drivers are thinking. Give me aggressive and predictable any day. Someday, I’ll be like the Texas natives rueing the influx of “those people” clogging up the roads and driving like maniacs. Not today.

Call me a Texan in process. Not there yet, but I think I’ve done pretty well in my four years. Y’all come on down and we’ll visit for a spell. Weather permitting (and don’t come in August), I’ll treat you to some BBQ at HEB, and maybe do some shootin’ at the range. That is, if we survive the drive.

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