5/10/2011

texan


No matter the language I'm speaking or learning, no matter the types or nationalities of my friends, and no matter where I "hang my hat" - you can never take the Texan out of a girl.

I know, I know, sounds silly coming from a partial √©migr√© living in Germany with prospects to be all over the world, but I’m beginning to see the truth in it.

Why? I have had various country songs spring into my mind at all hours for the past months. The recent culprit: “I shoulda been a cowboy / Shoulda learned to rope & ride / Wearing my six-shooter, riding my pony on the cattle drive / Stealing young girls’ hearts / Just like Gene & Roy / Singing those campfire songs / Oh, I shoulda been a cowboy.
“I mighta had a side kick with a funny name / Running wild through the hills chasing Jesse James / Ending up on the brink of danger / Riding shotgun for the Texas Rangers / Go west young man, haven’t you been told / California’s full of whiskey, women and gold / Sleeping out all night beneath the desert stars / With a dream in my eye and a prayer in my heart “ (Chorus again)

Besides the tunes on my lips, nachos & chili run through my veins. I don’t want to deceive anyone – I am no cowgirl. I don’t own Stetson or Wranglers; I don’t have the boots or the shiny big belt buckle or the perfectly formed hat. But it doesn’t mean I haven’t before or don’t dream about it now.

There’s just something about the Texan lifestyle/culture that I’m thinking will never leave me. And I’m quite glad about that.

Makes me think about how my dad would answer and end a telephone call ... always: "Yellow." "M-bye." Texan born and bred.