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Deep in the Heart of Texas

by Chris Minnick

Don't even think about asking us why we chose to have our honeymoon in Texas. Since returning to our muddy California home, we have been asked that question dozens of times, and it's becoming rather annoying. Margaret says that Californians are so confident that they live in the "best place on Earth" that they don't see any reason to go anywhere else. From my brief experience with California, I would tend to concur that the evidence does seem to support this theory. The reason we went to Texas for our honeymoon? We know something you don't know.

The AlamoWe arrived in San Antonio the evening of the day after our Las Vegas wedding. After picking up our rental car and checking into our hotel, our first stop was, naturally, The Alamo. For the Texas history impaired: It was at the Alamo that hundreds of Texans died defending Texas from the Mexicans. The Mexicans killed everyone at the Alamo (except for a woman or two), but the battle lasted for a while, which gave Sam Houston time to get his troups together and soundly trounce the Mexicans afterwards. Texas became the Repubic of Texas, which it remained until it became a state.

I have had a strong desire to be a Texan for a couple years now, and being at the Alamo made my Texas yearnings so much stronger. It would not be possible for me to describe the enormous pride and respect that Texans have for the heros of the Alamo. Perhaps when I'm a Texan I'll be able to, but, in short, visiting the Alamo feels like visiting a temple--which I suppose, in some ways, it is. If you're thinking of asking "Why do you want to be a Texan?", the answer is the same as the answer to the question you almost asked above--except with "If I told you I'd have to shoot you" appended.

Where else but Texas could you go on a "Drive Though Safari" just 10 miles outside of one of the country's 10 biggest cities? Where else but Texas could you walk down the street with a beer in plain view and a concealed weapon? Where else but Texas can you wear leather boots, a ten-gallon hat, and a belt buckle as big as your head and not be ridiculed? Where else but Texas can you go to a "town" with a population of 3 every weekend and find fifty guitar-pickers drinkin beer, eatin jerky, and singing bluegrass tunes? And finally, where else, but Texas, can you find three rodeos happening the same week within 50 miles of each February?

The truth of the matter is--nowhere!
Nowhere but Texas!

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