Wednesday, January 21, 2009

How far can you go on a tank of Swagger?


There's got to be something under this thick, crusty skin... besides chicken. We Texans are a people stewed in contradiction, both reckless and traditional.

My friend calls it "swagger"... and not of the Jay-Z brand. We pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and raise our young'uns right. A true Texan is rowdy, rough, and knows how to rock a porch swing. And pride? You'd never beat it out of us.

Neither friend nor foe will take our state's rights - not without a fight. No, if the two years' minimum state history courses in primary, junior, and senior high schools have taught us anything, it's to say to those who directly challenge our freedom: "Come and take it."

Have we forgotten what we’re made of? In the past, we have learned how to make the land (and, sadly, our fellow man) work for us. Oil has been a doting mistress. She's brought us company and comfort, and even in hard times, she stuck with us.

It was good - real good - while it lasted. But the writing is on the wall, and she's packing her bags. How will we react to life without her? Does the unsinkable Texan turn to the Man solve his problems for him? Or does he grab some self-respect and try to confront a new frontier?