It is Christmastime. All things bright and beautiful twinkle through the eyes of children and sparkle in the windows of my urban landscape. This city is definitely at its best during this season.
The lights that illuminate the facades of our homes add so much to our winter laden landscapes and cement groundwork. This city personifies everything Texan. We build things bigger here. You should see our freeways. Our appetites match our persona and feasting takes on a monolithic appearance on our tables come Christmas night.
I love being a Texan. I hate being a Texan. Yes, it is the ying and the yang of my life. Being a Texan implies a certain strength of character that runs parallel with old Western filmstars and
political icons. The world needs more gumption and that is a word you will only hear inside our borders. Texans are full of gumption, backbone, and territorial pride.
We are also full of ourselves. The sun really does rise and shine based on our reality. We find ourselves a sort of central focus in the Universe. Why, we should have our own UN representative, shouldn't we? Our oil is our pride, as if we had anything to do with its creation! Someone's great grandfather probably did shoot into the soil and find a "bubbling crude" like Jed Clampitt on the Beverly Hillbillies told us.
In all fairness, there is a true value in self awareness. At least I can laugh at myself and acknowledge that all the above does apply to my viewpoint. When our oldest daughter was born, while her father and I lived in a far Western state, which shall go unnamed, I actually panicked. I seriously considered flying across country for the birth. I couldn't imagine having a non-Texan daughter. Now I have 3. But, as we cross the TX state line they know how to sing with full Texas pride "The Stars at Night are Big and Bright, Deep in the Heart of Texas." Some traditions are made to be kept and passed down. This is one that makes me smile as I sing along.