True Texans

Photo by Paul Lowry

My ancestors came to Texas when it was still part of Mexico.  They settled on the frontier in what is now Caldwell County, Texas.  The area had sandy soil and tall pine trees.  Making a living from that country was no easy task, but they did it.   They did it as a community. Helping each other when needed. They were not conservatives, they were individualists who knew when to depend on their neighbors.  Some went to war when Texas declared its independence from Mexico.  One ancestor rode with Sam Houston at the Battle of San Jacinto where Texas won its independence.  Another fought in the Mexican-American War and died in Mexico.

These men and women looked forward to Texas becoming part of the United States and were proud when that happened.  Later, when the southern states began to secede, votes were taken on whether Texas should secede.  Sam Houston was against secession.   So was one of my ancestors living in Gonzales County.  He voted against secession even though he was the only voter in his precinct and everyone would know his vote.  Indeed, he was the only vote against secession in the whole county.

Another ancestor joined the Confederate Army and fought for Texas.  He refused to surrender when his unit was surrounded and escaped to rejoin other of his comrades.  At the end of the war, he walked home from Louisiana to Central Texas.  He believed that the war was a mistake or as he said to his children and grandchildren (one grandchild was my grandmother): "A rich man's war, but a poor man's fight."  He helped build the courthouse pictured above.

World War I saw more family members fight for the United States.  They saw the United States as their country.  World War II came, uncles joined the army and so did my mother.  She met my father at Fort Hood before he headed for the Pacific and an island hopping war. Korea found my youngest uncle in uniform.  Viet Nam saw my oldest cousin off to fight.  He came back permanently damaged, never the same person again.  He and I are only six months apart.  Now in these wars, another cousin flies huge transport planes in support of the troops.  Sometimes landing in then midst of enemy rockets.

Do we all believe the same?  By no means.  We are a mixed bag of conservatives, liberals, independents, and contrarians.  The contrarians just vote any way the majority doesn't.  We are city slickers and cowboys, truck drivers and writers, but we still get together in memory of the men and women who settled Texas and were our ancestors.

Texas is not conservative and it is not liberal.  True Texans are individuals who chart their own paths and make up their own minds.  Sadly. many that carry on about being from Texas are pale images of real Texans.  Many act tough and brag about their deeds, real or mostly imaginary.

The one image passed from generation to generation in my family is that of the individual that never bragged nor acted tough ("shut-mouthed" my grandmother would say).  Quiet men that impressed many with their even temper.  Beneath that facade though lay the person unafraid to take a stand no matter what his/her neighbors thought.  A person that was slow to anger, but who was willing to risk all to right a wrong.  No one told them what opinions to have, and they saw no need to impose their views on others.

Today, too many people living in Texas do not think on their own.  They are simply sheep being led by the goats.  They do not stop to think of the consequences of reducing an already lean budget.  Texas ranks 48th to 50th in the help it provides to the least among us.  My ancestors would be ashamed as I am.  It is time for those living in Texas to stop following the herd, to stand up for the elderly, the mentally ill and handicapped, and the physically handicapped.  People living in Texas need to stop being selfish and remember those that settled this state, men and women who stood together and helped one another, fought for one another and died for one another. 

People who claim to be Texans need to break from the herd and be independent.  Honor Texas by caring for "the least of these brothers of mine".

Veteran's Day 2009

This Veteran's Day, I reflect on those in my family that served our country, friends who served and those in service now. Both my mother and father served in WWII. Mom joined the WACs, my father, the army. Mom stayed in the states, my father fought across the Pacific. I am one of those people who may exist only because the United States dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. Only God knows if my father would have survived the invasion of Japan. Maybe I will deal with this life and death issue.

My mother's brother fought across Europe in WWII including the Battle of the Bulge. He never spoke of his experience except for one humorous aspect. My uncle had never learned to drive before he entered the army, yet one day he was told to drive a jeep from his unit to another. Rather than admit he could not drive, he jumped in and did his best. His best was good enough and he often was his unit's driver. In later years, I rode with my uncle. He was a terrifying driver then and always. Oddly, he rarely got tickets.

The only cousin older than me ( by six months) volunteered for the army during the Viet Nam War. A gentle boy, he came home an alcoholic, forever scarred by the war. Too many of my friends did not come home. One close friend volunteered for the nuclear navy when he found out he was slated to be drafted as soon as he graduated from college. He met Admiral Rickover and to my surprise became a career officer. One friend drafted after college made a name for himself by blowing up a missile in a silo (not his fault), but he was transferred to a desk job. Viet Nam marked my generation for good and ill.

A young cousin married a Marine many years after Viet Nam. A fine man he retired from the service to become a nurse. We had all thought he would stay beyond his minimum for retirement, but he told us that he simply grew weary of command ( he rose to the rank of Colonel) although not the Marines.

Now, no one in my family serves in the military, but the son of a friend is now a Marine. This is a boy raised by a single mother who had never been a tomboy. To me fell the glad task of teaching him odd skills from my tomboy childhood such as how to spin a wooden top or tricks with a yo-yo. On the flip side, I also introduced him to poetry. Now, he is stationed in the US, but scheduled to go to Afghanistan at the end of the year. For him, he cannot go soon enough. For thoze who care for him, we wait with apprehension.

Generations come and go, but still there is war. Did Constantine stain Christianity with violence when he made Christanity his empire's religion? Weren't Christians destined to bring peace? I do not know the answer. All I know is I will pray for my young friend as he goes to war. I will honor those that came before. I will pray that a path to peace for all will be found, so that someday, there will be no more veterans.

Photo by Beverlykahuna

A Branded Generation

Our President spoke of the Viet Nam war, urging that mistakes not be repeated. I remember that time: the friends that never came home, those that did forever changed. That war branded my generation. I remember watching demonstrators storm toward the Chemistry Building where they had been told military research was underway. I knew the truth: there was no such research in that building. My research was there, the study of the structure of certain small molecules important only to other chemists. So I stood in a locked lab and hoped that the mob went elsewhere. It did. Later, I would learn that some of my fellow chemistry graduate students were protestors. I did not understand. How did destroying the work of others help end a war? I do know we did so many things wrong. I had friends that served gallantly, but were not treated as patriots. I had friends who marched against the war. I always seemed to be in the middle. I was not a Christian then, perhaps if I had been, my perspective would have been different. I do not know. These days, I pray for those who fight, and I pray for those that suffer or die. No matter what their name for God.