God bless Texas!

Today, in places like Austin, the state capitol, and Washington-on-the-Brazos, the site of the signing of the Texas Declaration of Independence from Mexico on March 2, 1836, thousands of Texans will at least give some thought to the meaning of Texas Independence. “You can go to hell—I’m going to Texas.” So said Davy Crockett (1786-1836), one of the heroes of the Alamo. At least that’s what they say. And the same spirit that led so many brave (and perhaps foolhardy) men to give their lives in the battle at the Alamo, the now-long historic shrine to the spirit of independence, is still on the hearts of lots of people. Some summers ago on the plaza in Santa Fe, New Mexico, the back of the t-shirt sported by one of the people gathered there on an early evening to hear the music that is part of a Santa Fe summer, was Crockett’s proud, brave (and perhaps foolhardy) words. As they also say, you can take the Texan out of Texas, but you can’t Texas out of the Texan.

I no longer own my two-story barn home in Texas, on land my sisters and I inherited from our mother (granted before her by our Texas German grandmother and before her in spirit by our great-grandmother). In July of 2017, I deeded my last physical hold on Texas to my middle sister. Over the last several years I’ve sold off most of the antique and vintage treasure I had collected over 40 years of journeys. I am officially a resident of New Mexico. I gave up my Texas driver’s license in 2010, for practical reasons. I’d never had a driver’s license from any place other than Texas. Not long after, a process that required the better part of two months, the old front-and-rear Texas plates came off and the new rear plate went on. Ironically, the clerk who waited on me at the motor vehicle department had become a transplant to New Mexico at least 20 years earlier, and before that she had lived in New Mexico as a child. “We’ll be going back to Texas after my husband retires,” she told me. I thought about what that means to her, but I didn’t ask.

Native cross vine growing on
the Hollis land in Leon County Tx.

Virtually everyone I count among my friends and acquaintances in New Mexico has come here from some other place—New York by way of Houston, Chicago and New Orleans; Wisconsin by way of Arizona; Indiana, Oregon, Minnesota. We’re all in motion. I’m still surprised each time I meet someone who turns out to have grown up right here. That’s always a fun conversation—be it in the barber chair, checkout line at the market or hardware store, settled in for an event at a local indie bookstore, and so on.

One thing I know for sure. Regardless of where I am, and what driver’s license I carry in my pocket or the license plates are on my car, I remain a Texan, proud of my Texas roots. And even though I’ve chosen to make my home in the sunshine and dry air of the high desert, I try not to take it personally when someone has something harsh to say about Texas and Texans. The current political strong red leanings of Texas make it difficult for me to hold my own tongue. These red leanings are changing. They will change. All for the better. I’ve met quite a few native New Mexican Hispanics who have their own connections to Texas. As far as professional football goes (I’m not a sports fan), here you are either a fan of the Dallas Cowboys or the Denver Broncos. To a lot of people with strong roots in New Mexico, however, Texas and Texans do not and historically have not enjoyed a favorable reputation here in the land of enchantment. Ironically, it is a matter of natives sometimes biting the hand that feeds them. New Mexico is, after all, a land of tourists, and Texas is our next door neighbor. I heard a joke a few years ago that goes like this: Do you know the name of Texas’s favorite state park? New Mexico.

As the saying goes, we create our own bed, even though we might think at times that we are not the ones who made that bed—but yes, we have to sleep in it. The same principle applies to another deep-rooted part of American history. Anyway, in the case of Texas and New Mexico, it’s a battle of perception and attitude that won’t be won, given the thousands of Texans who live or have second homes (does that give you an inkling of wherein the source of the problem might lie?) in New Mexico. Like it or not, for good or for worse, the Texans are here. And of course, most of us defy the stereotypes that exist. Most of us do not have lots of disposable and discretionary income.

Today, March 2, it will be sunny and cool in the Rio Grande Valley of New Mexico, starting off in the low ‘30s and reaching the mid ‘60s by 3 this afternoon. The date was one of the first things to pop into my mind as I was in and out of sleep just before 5 this morning. For those of us who can trace our family’s Texas history back a few generations, it is a day to be proud. From England, through Virginia, North Carolina, Alabama, Georgia and Louisiana, my Hollis, Forest and Meadows ancestors made their way to the Lone Star State, some as early as the 1850s, but all before the turn of the 19th century. The roots of my maternal Fuchs and Benfer German ancestors in Houston (Harris County) Texas go back to before the American Civil War. Yes, I embrace this heritage.

Now today I’m not saying, you can go to hell—I’m going to Texas. I love my life here in New Mexico. I’ll open my front door to this glorious day, step outside under amazing blue skies, pick a route and walk. It could be in the quiet of my neighborhood, or could be in companion to the busy traffic a few streets over, the noise of road and building construction. I’ve noticed the “kwaak-kwaak” of neighborhood ravens lately, flying or perched somewhere nearby. Ravens like to be near people, I’ve read. Sometime before the summer heat has settled in, I’m thinking about a trek to Texas. Then again, maybe not. Regardless of where I am, on this day, especially, I am remembering where I began this journey, and I embrace this beginning and where and how it has allowed me to be. God bless Texas! And so it is.

March 2, 2018—Albuquerque, NM (revised from an earlier offering of March 2, 2011)
R. Harold Hollis