What an identity Crisis this class expedition has spawned. What incredible images of the rugged men and creatures that once roamed but now only haunt our once untamed state.
Frank J. Dobie, the gentleman, cowhand, scholar, philosopher, and tough-guy till the end. Jones said he was once the "pride and joy of ‘culture’ -minded members of the Texas power structure." But, when standing by his convictions, he rallied against the ‘power structure’ and faced the inevitable consequence. The wild mustangs, brass cast idols of the long-lost frontier ideology – free and untamed primal beasts. The durable loner, the longhorn. "He ranged far and could walk to the end of the world," Dobie said. Finally, the frontier family, bringing culture and civilization, tempered by the harsh realities of subsistence living, to the range.
These are the symbols and images that define Texas.
So what the hell does that make me? Thought I knew. Thought I was Texan. It’s on the birth certificate and vivid in my memory. Could have sworn I knew. Until these magnificent metal gods with polished dedication plaques informed me otherwise. I’m neither tough, free, nor adept in the outdoors. I’m a product of 20th century suburban Texas, a creature that practically feeds on the binary code of ‘ones’ and ‘zeros’ that keep all the precious machines running.
Never worn a cowboy hat or a pair of pointed boots. Never worked outside for a full day beneath the scorching summer sun clearing scrabble and scree. Unless trimming hedges counts.
So I guess that mean’s I’m not Texan. Not according to the script at least. But what exactly are we saying is a Texan. Is it the same desire for freedom and isolation that drove the instincts of the pioneers and mustangs? I am capable of feeling that. Or is it to achieve those things? Is it to act and live as if untamed in a state of nature? I’d be more than receptive to less rules and regulation. Is it in the symbolism of being a bastion of compassion and nurturing that some saw in the tending of animals? I believe in compassion. And animals.
I’ve come to disagree with the image of ‘Texans’ that ‘Texans’ so love to portray and glorify. Despite the image gap, no one could refute the birth certificate or the addresses on my grade school report cards. I still assert that I’m Texan, despite the incongruities.
Oddly enough, that fits the mold.