Texas friendly?

[Photo: Chair in my uncle Jesús Castro's yard - Crystal City, TX - 2004]

From 1999 to 2005 I lived in Lockhart, Texas. You may ask — why would a lefty from San Francisco move to Bush Country? Well, my wife decided to go the University of Texas at Austin for graduate school.

Six and half years later we’re back in beautiful California and my wife Ann has her Ph.D. She is now a professor at the University of Redlands, teaching Art History. Mission accomplished.

My tenure in Texas left an indelible mark on my wife and I. In retrospect, uprooting myself at the rather mature age of 47 was quite naive. I was not ready for the culture shock. Coming from a liberal bastion like San Francisco and San Jose to live near Austin wasn’t too bad, but much of the rest of Texas wasn’t ready to assimilate this Chicano — or as I was often called — Yankee.

Texans for some reason have a stubborn disdain for Californians. Many from the Lone Star state enjoyed poking fun at the Golden State. I must have heard this comment a thousand times, “California has too many earthquakes and is going to fall in the ocean. Sounds like a good idea to me.”

That’s the obnoxious and often arrogant side of Texas, but there is a kinder and gentler side, the side where people would start a conversation and invite you over for a visit — some iced tea. Yes, they were Texas friendly.

Today I am back in California and readjusting to the cultural norms. People in Redlands, like folks in Los Angeles, Riverside and San Diego are quite wary of strangers and avert their eyes. Starting a casual conversation with a stranger is out of the question in much of the Golden State.

In the small town of Johnson City (population 900) where I worked and Lockhart (population 9,000) where I lived, I often shook hands, waved and smiled at strangers and friends on a regular basis. Sounds corny, but I liked it.

In rural Texas, drivers had a folksy way of waving at a stop sign. It was just a quick and friendly shake of the hand, often from an old pickup. Once in a while I find myself doing that in California — but nobody waves back in Los Angeles. I’ll be stopping that habit soon enough.

At the co-op where I worked, women wouldn’t hesitate to volunteer for parenting duties like baby-sitting or picking up the kids. There was a definite sense of community and a respect for family that you don't often see in modern America. I would wonder to my self — would Johnson City or Lockhart have been a good place to raise a family. My daughters are both in their late 20s — I guess it’s too late to sign them up for 4H.

It wasn’t uncommon for co-workers to tell me about their children or grandchild. Time for conversation seemed inexhaustible and acceptable. I would hear stories of life on the ranch. I learned about raising goats and cattle. Now that I am in California, I wonder if I could ever use this information. Life in rural Texas is very different from the suburbs.

Am I glad to be back in California? Yes, it’s great to be back home. The weather is fantastic, the cultural opportunities are amazing and my wife and I are closer to friends and family.

What am I going to miss about the Lone Star state? Well the smell of oak fired BBQs to start with. The town I lived in — Lockhart — is the BBQ capital of Texas. Most mornings I would wake up and sit quietly on the porch and enjoy the great smell of oak smokers, brisket and ribs. Great BBQ was just a five-minute stroll down a quiet street. A big plate of BBQ cost me only $4 in 2005. In Lockhart, shopping, the oldest library in the state and the post office were also nearby. Yes, small town life can be convenient.

I’ll also miss listening to folks in their southern drawl explaining to this Yankee about hunting, making venison sausage, and if Ann and I were going to the Czech or German dance. What I won’t miss is being called a crazy Californian — over and over again. Listening to arrogant Texans can be tedious after a while.

I learned a lot about myself in Texas. In the end, I will adapt, and meld back into the California mainstream. Of course, this is as long as I don’t fall into the Pacific Ocean with the rest of California like so many Texans believe.

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