Showing posts with label Texas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Texas. Show all posts

Friday, July 20, 2018

A Summer Afternoon at 209 East Huisache Avenue - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

A Summer Afternoon at 209 East Huisache Avenue

Kingsville, Texas, 1955

A loaf of bread from the Piggly Wiggly
A quart of milk because MawMaw forgot
A Coke and a Mickey Mouse funnybook
A water pistol and Eskimo Pies

A pack of PawPaw’s brand of cigarettes
So he can watch his Yankees this afternoon
On the Sylvania with the rabbit ears
In gloriously static-y black-and-white

Plays called by Dizzy Dean and PeeWee Reese
In our childhood world, forever at peace

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

"Roganville! Roganville! Don't Forget Your Shoes and Grapes!" - poem

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

The conductor calls out:

“Roganville! Roganville! Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes!”

The Doodle Bug rattles on the Santa Fe
Through cut-over woods and hot sunset fields
From Kirbyille, where they have a traffic light
And a picture show, and they don’t milk cows

Oh, don’t forget your shoes and sack of grapes
A brand-new shirt from Mixson’s store, for church
The memory of a soda at City Drug
And city kids, who wear shoes all the time

I’m going to live in the city someday

But for now

The Doodle-Bug rattles on the Santa Fe

Sunday, August 31, 2014

A Jasper Cop and the Museum of Elvis

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

A Jasper Cop and the Museum of Elvis

Several weeks ago I was privileged to meet one of Jasper’s premiere citizens, a well-spoken, thoroughly professional, manly man with a fine sense of humor and a pretty car featuring lots of extra lights. We enjoyed a brief conversation about the inspection sticker on my own car, and he was so interested that he began writing about it.

When I modestly assured him that, really, hearing of its antiquity was more than enough amusement for me, he replied, “Now, sir, it is nine months out of date.”

Oops.

Y’know, if your car inspection sticker is nine days out of date, asking for a little mercy is not unseemly; if your inspection sticker is so old that it was countersigned by Sir Robert Peel, you’d better just confess your sins to the judge and do penance before the awful majesty of the law.

The next work day I visited the nice folks who inspect cars, and they enjoyed the moment too. Then, hat in hand and new inspection sticker on car, I made a pilgrimage to the judge’s office. The nice girls (I can say “girls”; they’re young and I’m old, so there.) asked if I wanted to see the judge and make a defense, and I said no, that I just wanted to pay my debt to society and slink out the back door with my hat covering my criminal face. In the event the fine wasn’t much more than a few of those multi-adjective overpricedacinnos at Clever Literary Allusion Coffee Shop, and I took out my checkbook.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir; we don’t take checks.” Well, that makes sense – if a man can’t be trusted to keep his inspection sticker up to date, what other perfidy might he be capable of? Actually, the problem is that some people write bad checks even to judges, who have as much problem collecting on them as anyone else.

While one of the nice young ladies found ways of making my credit card talk, I enjoyed viewing the Museum of Elvis. I’ve never heard of a judge’s office featuring an Elvis museum. Not even Andy Griffith’s office in fictional Mayberry had one of those, but there’s one in Jasper, Texas.

After I was released with a new suit of clothes and a caution to mend my ways, I drove over to the Belle Jim to drown my sorrows in a cup of coffee.

And that’s it. There’s no story here, and that’s how it’s supposed to be.

When the police officer required me to stop, I stopped. When he approached the car, I didn’t toss my cigarette at him. Well, I don’t smoke anyway. I didn’t call him a Fascist pig, and he didn’t call me one, and I didn’t demand to speak with another officer, One Who Looks Like Me. Which would hardly be possible – I do have a twin, but he doesn’t look at all like me (I’m the handsome one), and he’s not a cop, and he lives far away. The police officer was thoroughly professional, as were the staff in the city offices, and in every way the visits were enjoyable – well, except for that ticket thing.

As far as any assertion of rights, yes, there is the matter of rights – in this instance, the right of everyone around me to be safe when I’m operating a few thousand pounds of machinery. They have the right to expect me to drive my car in a sober and responsible manner. They have a right to expect that my car meets minimal safety standards with regard to lights, horn, turn signals, and brakes. They have these rights because everyone has the right to life.

So, yeah, I’m cool with all that.

Visiting the Museum of Elvis was cool too, but the price of admission was a little high.

-30-

Sunday, March 2, 2014

Tejas y Libertad Para Siempre!


Mack Hall, HSG


 

Tejas y Libertad Para Siempre!

 

This Sunday is the 178th anniversary of Texas’ declaration of independence from Mexico.  An assembly of dubious legality in Washington-on-the-Brazos put together a most noble document, signed it, and then fled for their lives.  Within a few years the short-lived Republic of Texas was absorbed by the United States.  When, in 1861, Texas voted herself out of the Union, the Union welcomed her errant child back into her arms by force of arms.  Joining the United States is not unlike joining the Mafia – you can’t unjoin.

 

Our Texas Declaration of Independence might seem like a pretty dead letter, but it is still worth reading for its elegant language, the rightness of its cause, and its occasional wild and inexplicable failures.

 

The first four paragraphs are long, complex, dependent clauses beginning with “When” but never concluded.  This is the sort of thing that gives delicate English teachers the vapors.

 

The dependent clauses are brilliant, though, because, without a resolution, they sort of propel the reader forward, looking for a verb and the recipient of action.

 

The following paragraphs then make a series of excellent complaints – freedom of speech, trial by jury, public education, ownership of firearms (“the rightful property of freemen”) – and does so excellently.  The flaw here is that the complaints are made against Mexico, not against the usurper, Santa Anna

 

To fault Mexico in 1836 for being in a mess is rather like blaming the Polish government for poor domestic policies in 1942.  In 1942 there was no Polish government, only occupiers, just as in 1836 there was no Mexican government, only a tyrant who had replaced a previous tyrant who had crushed Mexican democracy.

 

A real irony is that almost all of the rebels were Mexican citizens, some by pledge of allegiance, others by birth who risked their lives, their families, their friends, and their hard-earned property to join in the fight against the tyrant.  Tragically, after the Revolution those truly native to the soil were betrayed by the young nation they had helped build.  Colonel Juan Seguin, a hero of the Revolution, was to the later immigrants a non-citizen, a non-person, and he withdrew into exile.  The citizens of Goliad, who rescued as many of Fannin’s men as they could without being shot by their own soldiers, were thanked by the new government by being burnt out and forced to flee.

 

The declaration of independence dismisses all Mexicans – including those who fought for Texas – as “unfit to be free, and incapable of self government.”  This dismissal should have been addressed only to one man, the wicked Santa Anna.

 

The declaration of independence dismisses the Spanish language, the language of Texas for over three hundred years to that point, as “an unknown tongue.” 

 

The declaration of independence dismisses Indians, who lived on this land long before the Spanish, French, Mexicans, and Americans got off the boat or rowed across the Rio Sabina, as “merciless savages.”  And, yes, they were rough, especially the Comanches.  No one, not even the Apaches, ever thought of the Comanches as especially nice neighbors.

 

That’s a whole lot of long-time residents to annoy when starting up a new nation – what were the boys in Washington-on-the-Brazos thinking?

 

And then, after the fight for freedom was won, new immigrants introduced slavery into Texas, an evil forbidden by the constitution Santa Anna had discarded.  History is heavy with bitter ironies.

 

Every nation has its myths – King Arthur for Britain, Roland for France, El Cid for Spain, Davy Crockett for Texas, Brian Boru for Ireland, ice hockey medals for Canada, Mel Gibson for welfare-state Scotland – and myths are good for encouraging unity.   But no one should substitute myths for hard facts, or employ them to cover up injustice. 

 

Anyway, I say it’s a hard fact that in Texas we’re far better, freer, and more just than those 49 provinces who think they’re something, so may God bless Texas, and may He confound all our enemies, on our Independence Day and always.

 

Tejas y libertad para siempre!

 

-30-

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Kirbyville Elementary 2nd Grade, 1955-1956


Kirbyville Elementary School
2nd Grade, 1955-1956
Photo by D. T. Kent Jr. of happy memory