One Thing I Miss About East Texas

Hard to believe that almost six years have passed since I packed up my things and moved to Dallas, hoping to break free.

I viewed East Texas as a snow globe—you know those glass globes with a scenery and snow that when shaken gives the illusion of a snowfall.  I felt trapped in an area where only certain thoughts and philosophies were tolerated.  On the outside everything seemed quaint and peaceful, but then you realize things aren’t what they seem. I felt that certain religious institutions created this fully-fabricated, “Truman Show-like” world, trapping the minds of its inhabitants.  I knew more existed and I decided to break free from the globe.

Since moving to Dallas, I have prospered. I met the married the woman of my dreams. I’ve realized two of my childhood dreams (to work in a downtown Dallas office building and to live in the Park Cities). I make five times more than I did when I lived in East Texas. I’ve even made some great connections which afford me opportunities many would envy. Simply put, life’s been good to me.

The view from my first apartment in Dallas.

I love the hustle & bustle of the city. I like the fact that running in my neighborhood I have skyline views. I love all of the cultural, financial and entertainment opportunities living in the city afford, but some days I look around and see things that are missing.

Yesterday marked the official start of Fall. In spite of some afternoon heat and humidity, signs of Fall are everywhere–shorter days, (somewhat) cooler nights, the start of football season. It’s at this point of the year, that I miss East Texas the most.

Indeed, there is something endearing about the region during this season.

It starts with the pageantry of high school football. Stop in any East Texas town on a Friday morning, walk into any place of business and the employees will be decked out in the schools colors. Drive down Main Street and you’re bound to see flags and signs, cheering the home-town team on and unifying the community. Around 3 p.m., head to the local high school and experience school spirit at its finest. After that, watch as the entire town shuts down to attend the night’s game.

Sometime in October, you’ll get your first “cool snap.” The winds shift; the air feels crisp and clean. The sun gently rises above the majestic pine trees, before  rising to the top of the clear blue sky. To truly take in the beauty, I recommend driving down Texas 135 in between Jacksonville and Kilgore, as the highway snakes through beautiful pine hills and forgotten boom towns, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Once the sun goes down, the temperature drops and there’s no better way to stay warm than to build a bonfire and call your friends up for a party.

The view from Love's Lookout, just outside Jacksonvile, Texas, on a beautiful Fall afternoon.

You know that the first Sunday in November will be one of the few Sundays of the year that churches aren’t filled to capacity, as hunters throughout the region remain camped out at their deer leases, hoping to be the first to bag the season’s “big one” or to at least create a story about how the “big one” got away.  By now, the high school playoffs have arrived, energizing small towns even more–the younger generation hoping to write the next chapter in their programs’ history and the older generation comparing the team to those of the past.

By Thanksgiving, leaves on the ground outnumber those in the trees. You gather together with family, play backyard football, eat, watch the Cowboys, play more backyard football, and then cap the night off with even more football or venture out into town and watch East Texas become a wonderland of lights. Even the smallest communities hang lights on every structure in town to mark the the beginning of the holiday season.

Fall is when East Texas comes alive!

The weather changes here as well. Football games become increasingly more important and the holiday season brings a certain energy to the stale city. But the air is not as crisp, the foliage not as magnificent and with the exception of a few more days off of work, city life really isn’t much different in the Fall than any other season.

I’m not ready to move back to East Texas just yet. The city affords me too many opportunities to simply pack it up for a quarter of the year. But as I sit at my desk, stuck in the grind, I often reflect on memories of Fall in East Texas and I’m reminded it’s not as bad as I made it out to be.

What’s the matter in East Texas?

My good friend, Brian Cuban, recently penned an article for his blog regarding the “death of small town America.” In the piece, Cuban opens with details of his recent trip to celebrate Thanksgiving in East Texas and laments the condition of one specific town, Atlanta, Texas, but extends the content of his post to small towns all over our country, where the downtown area is full of vacant buildings and the economy is dead.

Cuban contends that Wal-Mart is to blame for the demise of Atlanta and other small towns all across the land. While Wal-Mart definitely played in a role in the death of small town America, other factors contributed and deserve a full and open discussion.

In full disclosure, my family’s roots in the Atlanta area go back through at least the mid point of the nineteenth century.  Though I don’t live there now, this area will always be “home.”  I know the land and the people and understand all too well the political and economic forces that make the community, and others like it, tick.

What’s happened in Atlanta in has been going on for centuries.

Consider the fact that immediately following the Civil War, as most of the state lay barren and uninhabited, the bustling river port of Jefferson (@ 30 miles south of Atlanta) had a population of around 30,000. This might not sound like a lot by today’s standards, but in the 1860′s and 1870′s only Houston and Austin had a larger population in the state. Legend has it that railroad tycoon, Jay Gould, cursed the city for their refusal to allow him to put his railroad through the town. Historians will tell you it was the Corps of Engineers ability to finally remove the Great Raft from the Red River, resulting in dropping water levels in Big Cypress Bayou making it no longer navigable, that brought around the eventual demise of Jefferson. Whatever the case may be, Jefferson now has a population of around 2,000 and an economy that’s not much better than Atlanta’s. It’s worth noting, there is no Wal-Mart in Jefferson.

Brian and I had Thanksgiving in Kilgore, Texas, an East Texas city with a similar history to Jefferson. In the 1930′s, oil was discovered in Kilgore and other East Texas communities like New London and Joinerville. Soon boom towns sprung up all over the area. The population and economy in the area soared. At one time, over 1,200 oil wells pumped inside the city limits of Kilgore alone.  While oil still means a lot to the economy in Kilgore, the boom long subsided and downtown Kilgore continues to struggle. I lived in Kilgore for a couple of years and residents continually refused to build a Super Wal-Mart for fear of what it would do to the local economy. Finally, after I moved in 2002, Kilgore gave in and they now have a Super Wal-Mart. The economy seems to be as stagnant as it was  before, but no worse than the pre-Supe Wal-Mart days.

The reason that these East Texas communities continue to struggle is not because a large corporation chose to build a discount super store, but rather the absence of real capital.  In the 1860′s and 1870′s, Jeffersonians made the most of their capital–their bustling river port. Once it dried up, many of the investors that contributed to the growth of the city left, leaving those who could not afford to leave to rot in the economic decay. Similarly, the discovery of oil led to an influx of capital from every major oil company in the world into the East Texas region. Once the oil became harder to find, the investors began to pull out, leaving behind a work force largely unqualified to do anything else except work in the oil fields.

The problem becomes worse when people in my generation leave to get an education, establish themselves professionally and then don’t return to the area. It’s similar to the cause of urban decay, where the “have’s” escape to the suburbs, leaving the “have not’s” in the urban core.

In spite of all this, the people of East Texas are persistent as the native pine trees, roots planted firmly in the ground, capable of withstanding all that life may throw their way. Neither the Corps of Engineers, nor “big oil”, nor Wal-Mart will destroy these towns. It would help if the Federal government got off the backs of these good people and loosen regulations on the two industries that this region depends on more than any others–timber and oil–but it’s not in the East Texan’s nature to complain, but rather to deal with life deals them. Just like they have in the past, East Texans will survive this current economic storm and come out better for the most part than their urban counterparts.

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Now playing: Graham Nash/David Crosby – Immigration Man
via FoxyTunes

Texas High School Football Playoffs: A Broken System

Driving around my neighborhood tonight, I noticed yellow ribbons everywhere–on fences, stop signs and in front of houses. While I do live in fiercely patriotic community, these ribbons are not part of a military salute, but rather part of a unique Texas high school football tradition. This week marks the start of the Texas high school football playoffs, one of the most exciting events in all of sports. During the playoffs, the Highland Park community places yellow ribbons around town to show their solidarity with their local team (HPHS’s school color are navy and yellow).  It’s one Highland Park tradition that reminds me of home.

As a kid growing up in rural East Texas, high school football meant the world to me. The performance of our local football team defined our community. Making the playoffs sent a message to surrounding communities that we excelled in something uniquely Texan and served as a rallying point for everyone in town. I still remember the first playoff game I attended. In 1983,my Atlanta Rabbits took on the Carthage Bulldogs at Longview’s Lobo Stadium. My Rabbits lost that night, but this brief glimpse into this spectacular new world engendered an insatiable appetite for the game. Years passed before our next playoff appearance and the mystique surrounding them grew.  Then in 1990, the Rabbits entered a new era, one punctuated by an appearance in the state championship game in 1994.

Part of what made the playoffs so exciting was the selective nature of the system. Eleven man football in the state was broken into five classifications based on school enrollment. Each classification consisted of approximately 200 schools, divided into districts. Prior to the mid 80′s, only one school from each district–the district champion–advanced to the playoffs for a five week tournament. In the mid 80′s, the UIL, the state’s governing board for sports, decided to expand the playoff format and take the district champion and runner-up to compete in a 64 team field, stretched over six weeks.

In both scenarios, only the best teams advanced to the post-season and at the end of the year, each classification crowned one champion. This changed in 1998 when the UIL created two divisions within each classification (2A-5A, 1A would not adopt the policy until 2006)–a large school division with 32 teams and a small school division with 64 teams. The top 3 teams from each classification advanced to the playoffs, with the school with the largest enrollment going in the big school division and the other two teams advancing through the small school division (5A adopted this system in 1990 & 4A in 1996, but 1998 was the first season for 3A and 2A).

Under this new system, teams with sub-.500 records began earning playoff spots and each classification crowned TWO state champions. A team could finish in third place in a district and advance to win a state title. To say the least, the playoffs became watered down and state titles lost some of their luster.

For example, in 2003, the Atlanta Rabbits won the 3A Division II state championship, 34-0 over Marlin,  in one of the most dominating performances in a state championship game in Texas history and earning my alma mater their first state title in football. I watched from the stands that day and celebrated with my friends after the game, but something about the title felt cheap. Indeed, the weekend before, Gainesville High School had won the 3A Division I state title. We’ll never know if Atlanta or Gainesville had the better team (although Atlanta has won every meeting with Gainesville) and in my mind the championship will always feel like a co-championship. In some ways, I’m more impressed with our state finals appearance in 1994, a 36-15 loss.

Now the UIL has watered the system down even more, taking four teams from each district–two for each division–in 4A & 5A.  That means that at least half of the district makes the playoffs in most cases, 128 total teams in those two classifications.

What kind of champions do you get in this kind of system?

Let’s look at the two state champions in 4A from last season. Austin Lake Travis won the Class 4A Division I (big school) title with a 16-0 record. Led by quarterback Garrett Gilbert (now Colt McCoy’s back-up at UT), the Cavaliers won the District 25-4A state title, winning their 16 games by an average of 33 points per game. In the state championship game, they defeated the Longview Lobos, 48-23, capping off one of the most dominating seasons in Texas football history.

The Sulphur Springs Wildcats won the Class 4A Division II state title. For a full recap on their “unusual” path to the state title, I invite you to check out a piece we published in July. Suffice it to say, they took the road less traveled, finishing third in a district that featured Longview (see above paragraph). Longview defeated Sulphur Springs in district play 32-13. Yet Longview loses in a state title game and the Wildcats hoist a trophy at the end of the season. Sulphur Springs gave up an average of 30.6 points a game, only held one team to under 20 points the entire season and gave up 30+ points seven times. Clearly Lake Travis was the best team in Class 4A, but they will forever be remembered as a “co-champion.”

The UIL must do something about the high school football playoff system. I suggest creating a 6A division for the large high schools surrounding the state’s major metropolitan areas and adjust the other classifications accordingly. Return to a single champion format for each classification, with a 64 or 32 team field playoff. If this current trend continues, Texas football’s legacy stands to be tarnished.

Smoaky resigns from KTBB

Our East Texas bureau reports that David Smoak has resigned as “Sports Director and Talk Host at KTBB radio.” A trip to Smoaky.com confrimed this report.  It appears that Smoak will continue to maintain his site, a haven of heated discussions on all-things sports, especially high school football.

Texans love their high school football and the Piney Woods house some of the sports’ most passionate fans. Smoaky understands this passion and he developed a successful media strategy that provided East Texans with informative and entertaining coverage of high school football for over 20 years.  While media personalities in larger markets look down their nose at high school football, Smoaky devoted a majority of his to time to the it, earning him the reputation of being one of the state’s foremost experts on the sport.

Growing up in East Texas, I have fond memories of watching David Smoak as the sports anchor for a local television station. His high school football scoreboard was a must see every Friday night. As a college student in Tyler, I rediscovered how great Smoaky was when I found his sports talk radio program on the AM side of the dial.  Later on, I would have the opportunity to work with Smoaky on several different occassions while working for TexasPrepXtra.com. He was willing to do whatever it took to help young, aspiring journlists get the experience they needed.

It remains to be seen whether or not this signals the end of Smoaky’s career.  I’ve found a couple of different statements regarding his move on his website and both of them are deliberately worded, leading me to believe there some contractual issues yet to be answered. I tend to believe that Smoaky will continue doing what he loves, covering sports. I’m just no sure in what capacity.

If this does signal the end of his media career, it’s a sad day for East Texas sports fans. Smoaky’s work went far beyond high school football. He was the first local reporter in East Texas to begin live coverage from Cowboys’ training camp.  When Smoaky traveled to camp, he always brought along a huge smoaker and would provide food for the entire media contingent. Through his food and his professionalism, Smoaky developed many contacts throughout the state, friends who would often drop in on his program. No other media program has his connections and they will find it hard to book the types of guests his fans have grown accustomed to.

Heres to a very short stint off the air for David Smoak! East Texas sports fans need him.

Rangers Frustration!

As a Rangers’ fan, I should be accustomed to being frustrated. This team did a great job of teasing us all earlier this season, but now reality is beginning to set in.  We might hold on to first place for another night, but it won’t be long.  The weaknesses of this team have been exposed and until they are addressed, the team will continue to struggle and slide down the standings.

I spent a majority of the day listening to local talk radio dissect this Rangers team. The general consensus among the talking heads was that this team woes begin and end with the offense, especially one particular player.

Let’s be realistic, this Rangers team is a mess right now. No one person is to blame.  The main problem with this team is much bigger than the offense; it’s the philosophy that if they continue to play the game the same way, they will get different results. This is foolish, and dangerous, thinking.

Their “balls to the walls,” “swing for the fences” offensive mentality has a place in the baseball world. When your pitching staff has an ERA in the 5′s, you have no choice but to play big offensively. If you have hot sticks in your line-up, by all means, ramp up your offensive attack. However, this is a ball club that’s getting decent production out of their starting pitching and bullpen. By Arlington standards, this pitching staff is phenomenal.

On the flip side, this is a team that is struggling at the plate and its’ not all Chris Davis. From Ian Kinsler in the lead-off position, right down through the heart of the order, and down to the batting cellar with Salty and Davis, with the exception of Michael Young, there is no offensive consistency on this ball club. Potential ? Yes. Production? Hell no!

Some out there seem to think that by sending Davis down to the minors, the Rangers’ offensive woes will magically disappear. They seem to believe that Davis possesses some freakish power that not only drains his athletic prowess, but also that of his teammates.  I’ll be the first to admit that sending Davis down is a great idea. I’m a native East Texan and I love to see East Texans succeed, but keeping Davis in the majors is bad news for both the Rangers and Davis. However, that move alone will not resurrect this team.

What this team needs more than anything is a return to the basics of baseball, especially offensively.  It sounds so cliche, but be patient at the plate, take the first pitch, work the count, make the opposing pitcher throw strikes. There’s nothing wrong with a walk, but if you see a pitch you like on a 2-1 count swing, make contact and “hit it where they ain’t.”

The home run is not the only scoring option in this great game, especially if you know how to play “small ball.” Personally, I don’t know how you can make it to the majors and not know how to bunt, but from what I understand there are several players in the Rangers’ line-up who cannot bunt effectively. University of Texas head baseball coach Augie Garrido, a master of small ball, has said that he would bunt Babe Ruth in certain situations. The Rangers would be well served to adopt this philosopy, especially with their current struggles. Work a walk to lead off an inning, lay down a bunt, move the runner to second, instruct the next hitter to not swing until the pitcher has thrown a strike and then to make contact.

Of course offensive fundamentals mean absolutely nothing if you play with such poor defensive fundamentals that your catcher can’t even return the ball to the pitcher without an overthrow.

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Now playing: Public Enemy – By The Time I Get To Arizona
via FoxyTunes

I love Texas ! I’ve lived here my entire life, so I admit to some built-in bias, but this is a pretty damn good state to live in.  Even though I’ve lived here for 30 years, it wasn’t until this past weekend that I made my first trip to West Texas. I must say it was an awesome experience. After spending so much time in the Piney Woods of East Texas, it was amazing to see a competly different landscape in the same state.

Where else can you see this

 

this

 

 

this

 

this

 

this

 

 

and this

 

 

in the same great state.

I definitely think every Texan should make every effort to visit every corner of this state. It is well worth. In the meantime, I plan on workin on a book, “Everything I Needed to Know About Texas I Learned From High School Football.” A look into how, as a child, I learned about different towns and cities in Texas by reading Dave Campbell’s Texas Football magazine, learning the schools in each town, their mascots and their enrollment.

The way health care ought to be…

As Barack Obama gathers the greatest minds in health care together, I thought I would share my personal experiences with the medical community in hopes of helping solve the health care crisis. 

I grew up in rural East Texas, in a town where literally everyone knew your name. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and I’m glad to live in the city now, but there are several aspects of that small town lifestyle that I miss, especially my doctor.  The small medical clinic in town provided health care for three generations of my family. There was no need to take medical histories, the same doctors that treated me had treated my grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles and cousins. There was no need to waste a lot of time feeling out paperwork, as soon as you walked in the door the office staff pulled your file and you were on your way to being treated. 

Once you got inside the examination room, the doctor came by, inquired about the problem and made a diagnosis. Again, there was no need to check any guidelines or recommend any superfluous tests, the doctor made a diagnosis based on the empirical evidence in front of him.  Before you left, the doctor asked about your family and eased any concerns you may have about your visit.

I didn’t realize how unique this situation was until I visited the doctor for the first time in Dallas. 

True story, two years ago I was trying to flush the toilet and broke the plastic handle. The sharp edges sliced my thumb wide open and since it was a Friday evening I decided to go to an urgent care center. I gave the office staff my insurance information. They informed me that since my carrier was closed for the evening I would be responsible for the entire cost of my visit and they would file claim on my behalf later.

An hour later, I was led back to the examination room. A physician assistant examined my wound, gave me a shot and stitched me up. It wasn’t until I got ready to check out that I experienced the most painful moment of the evening. For an examination by a physicians assistant, some stitches and a tetanus shot, I owed the urgent facility well over $500, out of pocket. I knew that I would get reimburshed for a majority of the cost, but I was still appalled that I had to pay the same price to see P.A. that I would to see a M.D. 

So what does this have to do with the current health care problem and what can we learn about the health care I received in my small town?

In my hometown, I was more than just a patient. I had an established relationship with my health care providers, something non-existent in the heavily regulated world of urban medicine. I can only imagine how impersonal health care would be if the Federal government had even more control over it.

What about costs? Obama’s people will tell you that health care costs are outrageous and even I just shared how I get ripped off by an urgent care facility, thankfully I have insurance–crappy insurance, but insurance all the same. When you have a personal relationship with health care provider, money becomes a secondary factor to your care. The clinic that housed my health care providers was very flexible with payments. You and your health care provider figured out what you could pay and how you could pay for it. Again, if and when the Federal government seizes control of the health care industry, they will attempt to destroy this personal relationship with health care providers.

I don’t expect everyone to be able to find health care like I’ve been blessed to have. However, I do think my story illustrates that the health care industry is not as out of control as those on the Left will have you believe. There is very little regulation, in fact many of the health care providers in my hometown violate many of the Federal regulations in place, and the health care I received there is far superior to anything I have received since living in Dallas. If anything, I think it proves that less regulation can lead to a better relationship between patient and health care provider, which in turn will lead to better treatment.

The Art of Dissent

Since Ohio has officially been placed in Obama’s corner, I’m going to go ahead and call church on this election and declare Barack Obama the next President of the Untied States of America. As a proud American citizen, I will support and honor President Obama, but I will let him know that “dissent” is an active word in my vocabulary.

 I guess I learned the true meaning of the word “dissent” on September 12, 2001.

I remember listening to ABC Radio’s coverage of the 9/11 attacks and almost immediately, pundits on both sides of the aisle began discussing the ramifications of the attacks and an inevitable loss of certain civil liberties we once enjoyed. As the world came together to mourn, the Bush administration preyed upon these fears and launched a campaign that would forever change the landscape of our nation and our world. It took me less than 24 hours to realize that the response was far more dangerous than the attacks.

I voted for Bush in 2000. I’m not proud, but it’s the truth. On September 12, 2001, I began to regret my vote and began to take actions to rectify it. On campus, I spoke out against efforts to invade Afghanistan. I called into conservative talk radio programs and tried to convince hosts and listeners that the Bush administration’s response violated the most basic tenants of the Republican Party platform (e.g. limited Federal government). I wrote letters to the local newspaper in East Texas, a land redder than red, denouncing the Bush administrations response, causing many of my friends to distance from me because dared to question.

In 2002, fed up with the Republican Party, I began to campaign for Green Party and Democratic candidates. I started a chapter of College Democrats on my college campus and wrote letters to the school newspaper, denouncing it as a “right wing rag.”

During the lead up to the invasion of Iraq, I became even more radical in my dissent, staging walk outs on campus and organizing campus activities denouncing the Bush administration’s plans. I even used my slot on a local sports talk radio program to veer the topic from sports and focus on what I saw as unjust war led by an unjust administration.

In March of 2004, I voted for Dennis Kucinich in the Democratic Primary. By August of 2004, Barack Obama’s keynote address at the 2004 Democratic National Convention had lionized him my eyes and convinced me to campaign for Kerry and not waste a vote on Nader.

I worked phone banks, work votered registration drives and used my car as billboard supporting John Kerry and criticizing George Bush and the Republican Party. On November 2, 2004, I was the first person in line at my polling location to cast a vote for John Kerry. That night, I watched in horror as the returns came in and it became clear that Bush would remain in office. The only hope I had the whole evening was Obama winning a seat in the U.S. Senate.

I was so upset over the election returns that I refused to talk to my parents, family members and friends who voted for Bush for over a week. I covered high school football games for my radio show and for a website and at games-in East Texas-I would stand with my back to the flag during the national anthem to protest the Bush administration and the state of our nation.
I bought t-shirts, bracelets, bumper stickers-all expressing me frustrations. I began a blog with the sole purpose of ripping everything Republican-from Tom DeLay and Karl Rove to the Terry Schiavo fiasco and attempts to legislate homophobia on the part of the Republican Party.

Along the way, my crush on Barack Obama wore off and I can no longer support him in good faith. I stand by my convictions-a smaller government is a better government and taxes are not fair no matter how much you earn. Taxing the rich will not solve our economic woes, neither will expanding the size of our Federal government. Bush expanded the size of the government, allowing the government to go where it doesn’t belong.

 While in different ways, Obama will seek to expand the powers of the Federal government even further. The minute Obama tries to raise taxes on my wealthy brothers and sisters; I’ll be here to fight the Democrats’ attempts at socialism and fascism in our great nation. If Obama tries to nationalize our health care system, I’ll be here to voice my dissent.

In short, I’ve been dissenting for almost 8 years; I can dissent for 4 more. Stay close to my blog gentle reader and I’ll teach you the art of peaceful, but effective, dissent.

Obama in Bohemia!

While living in East Texas, I found a home among East Texas’ progressive underground, a unique blend of neo-Bohemians, punks, artists and emo kids.  Though small, it was a vibrant community that encouraged artistic expression, personal liberties, and a general sense of rebellion against all the cultural stereotypes attached to East Texas.  We went to shows, put on plays, attended political rallies and staged walk outs.  We sat around talking religion, politics and the virtues of a vegan diet.

 

Through all of this, I evolved from a staunch Republican to a borderline socialist. I worshiped the Beats, the ultimate Bohemians–men and women who lived life on their own terms, men and women who valued individual liberties and community. I aimed to live my life like these men and women; I aimed to live my life as a symbolic middle finger to the rules of conformity.

 

Today, I still read Ginsberg and Kerouac and I still listen to Bad Religion and The Smiths, but I find myself drawn back to the Republican Party. I look at neo-Bohemians across the great land, a majority of whom have cast their lot with Barack Obama, and I shake my head in disbelief. In his most simple form, Barack Obama represents everything Bohemia rejected, everything the Beats railed against and everything the punks cursed.

 

Though verbose and affable, Obama promotes a massive expansion of our Federal government, a Federal government that would no doubt exert more control over the individual, be it positive or negative. All these great movements that comprise progressive communities rely on communities of minimal control. By backing a political candidate who supports expansion of powers and control, one would be betraying these very basic truths.

 

Further, a vocal opposition engenders an environment of creativity and activism. More than once, I’ve made the point that I would end up in a fight in a room full of Republicans and I would have a great time in a room full of Democrats; however, I plan on voting for John McCain in the Fall. He represents the foil of the neo-Bohemian. This foil inspires the Bohemian to create and react, which in turn gives us movements like the Beat Generation. In short, without McCain, what would there be to rebel against?

 

My days of extreme rebellion are waning. While some may say I’ve sold out, I like to think that I have “bought in.” I still admire the people I met during my days in the undeground and what they represent, but I’ve grown older along the way and now I’ve traded in some of the youthful idealism for some realism.

Looking back, I remember Barrack Obama’s Keynote Address at the 2004 Democratic National Convention like it was yesterday. As a bitter, recent college graduate, clinging to the liberal idealism of academia, I saw, in Obama, an end to the divisive nature of partisan politics.

 

“Do we participate in the politics of cynicism, or do we participate in a politics of hope,” Obama asked his audience.

 

His tone was direct and powerful. His cadence was calm and comforting, like that of a pastor. I found myself wanting to shout, “Amen,” as he sought to dispel the myth of a “liberal” and “conservative” America, of “red states” and “blue states,” assuring us all that “we worship an awesome God in the blue states, and we don’t like federal agents poking around in our libraries in the Red States.” Obama’s entire speech was built on understanding those different from him and for the first time in my life, I felt that a politician understood my unique views.

 

As I learned more about Obama and rediscovered my own conservative roots, my interest in the Illinois senator began to wane, but even after the Jeremiah Wright fiasco I looked at Barry Obama as a harmless threat—a misguided socialist who actually believed the words he spoke at the 2004 convention. Obviously, his pastor and his wife had anger issues, but Obama was your typical, over educated, under churched American who wishes to make a god out of the government to replace the God they have destroyed. He wouldn’t get my vote and his ability to draw guilty white voters annoyed me, but Barry, personally, had not done anything to offend me.

 

Then I read this quote:

 

“You go into some of these small towns in Pennsylvania, and like a lot of small towns in the Midwest, the jobs have been gone now for 25 years and nothing’s replaced them, and they fell through the Clinton Administration, and the Bush Administration, and each successive administration has said that somehow these communities are gonna regenerate and they have not. And it’s not surprising then they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren’t like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations.”

 

 

As I read the quote, I allowed myself to soak in the emotion. I knew at first glance what Mr. Barry H. Obama was trying to say, because I used to think like Mr. Barry H. Obama. This particular train of thought, this over simplified explanation for the state of our nation, is one I heard in many a college lecture hall. I was reminded of an American history course I took in college, an entire course, built upon the premise that the modern American political, social and cultural schisms can best be reduced to a conflict of corporate values, favored by rural Americans, and the individual liberties, favored by the urban and educated. In other words, rural American find solace in the things that bring them together, their shared beliefs, and want a government to reflect these values (e.g. “guns and God”), while urban, educated Americans feel that the government is a tool to be used to create and sustain personal liberties.

 

The implication is that rural Americans are either too stupid or are too naïve to understand what is best for them and they need the urban/educated person to make those decisions for them. The thought process is not isolated to academia. Thomas Frank explored the subject thoroughly in his book, What’s The Matter With Kansas?, where he attempts to show how the value-oriented, yet simple minded folks from Kansas, have been duped into voting against the own interests by the promise of more God and less government.

 

And as a matter of full confession, I’ve been guilty of thinking the same things about my native land.

 

As you may know, I’m originally from East Texas, a land full of roughnecks, rednecks, wildcatters and lumberjacks. I spent the first twenty-six years of my life here, learning from the sturdy people inhabiting the area and lamenting over their apparent lack of social and cultural evolution. I often thought to myself that the pine trees, which grow so abundantly in East Texas, were not only responsible for disrupting cell phone signals, but signals of change—political, social and cultural—as well.

 

Daydreaming helped me cope; I pictured myself in a Woody Allen movie, walking the streets of the city, engaged in stimulating conversations about Nietzsche, Felini, and Cole Porter with like-minded individuals. Indeed, I longed to be an Ivy League-educated, East Coast intellectual. Upon moving to Dallas in 2005, I found city life wasn’t what the movies made it out to be. I had the apartment with a downtown view and I even had the neighbors with the fancy degrees, but what I soon learned was that I was surrounded by hopeless dependants—out of touch trust funders and yuppies with MBA’s who understood the value of a dollar, but couldn’t comprehend the value of a hard day’s work or the value of an independent life. 

 

I knew I had to reconnect with my roots, the roots that lie in the same ground as the roots of the pines, roots that connected me to people in touch with reality.

I thought of the party I was at on New Years Eve 1999. As the rest of the world worried about the possibility of the collapse of Western Civilization because of a computer glitch, my friends remarked that everything we ate that night was either caught or killed by us. The water came from a well in the ground that could be manually operated in a pinch and in the spring and summer there was a full vegetable garden. We had guns. We had food. We had water. We were completely self sufficient and we didn’t need the government’s help to survive. We clung to our guns, not out of bitterness, but out of necessity and because of our roots.

I thought of a lady who helped rear me, an aging African-American lady named Claudine. She told everyone she met the story about how she brought me home from the hospital after I was born, never noting the difference in the shades of our melanin.  It was at that point that my bond with her was formed.  She taught me so much about life.  Whether it was the 23rd Psalms or about the life of Dr. King, Claudine played an indelible role in shaping who I am today. As I grew older, Claudine called me on my birthday and Christmas to see how I was doing, reminding me to stay true to my roots, her roots, roots that intertwine with the roots of the pines.

My best friend’s grandfather, a man I call “Grandpa,” also taught me the significance of letting roots take hold in my life. Like other members of the “Greatest Generation”, Grandpa saw a “Great Depression”, a world war against an evil dictator, a Cold War and the rise of the United States as the world’s lone super power.  However, Grandpa’s story stands out even among this group of American icons. Not only did Grandpa survive the Great Depression, he also survived lung cancer and regained his vision after being blind for over a year.  Not only did Grandpa’s service to America foster and nurture her growth into the world’s only super power, he also fostered and nurtured six kids and later in life became the sole guardian/supporter of three grandchildren. While many members of the “Greatest Generation” retired years ago and spend their days playing bingo, Grandpa continues to work in the garage in his backyard. Harvard educated students must plagiarize in order to capture an audience; this “shade tree” mechanic just talks about his life, staying true to his roots, my roots, the roots of the pines, teaching us all what life really means.  

These are lessons that Barry Obama will never understand. These are people that Barry Obama will never understand. These are the roots that Barry Obama will never understand.

 

You see, it is these roots, not bitterness, that causes these people, including myself, to cling to God and country. It is a belief that the individual is far greater than the government and that, by the grace of God, a person can achieve whatever he or she sets out to accomplish.

 

This scares the hell out of people like Obama, because it is people in small towns in East Texas, in Pennsylvania, all across this nation, that by their actions and words, tell Obama and other socialists, we don’t need what you’re selling. We don’t need government in our health care. We don’t need government in our economy. We need the government to protect our nation from foreign and domestic threats and leave us the hell alone and that means Barry Obama is out of job.

 

What the hell is Obama going to do outside of politics? He has no life skills. He has no trade.