Hey! Even as just a visitor to the fair town of Kyle, I was afforded
a "tab" at the Kyle Hardware Store, a seat at the old kitchen table
in the back, free coffee if I had my own cup, and got to know a
half dozen local characters sitting around that table in the back
- one an old flamboyant gay gentleman, another a crusty weather
worn rancher, an about to retire lineman for the electric company
who shoots some of his buddies up on a pole - with a pellet gun -
just for fun (he only give the rifle a pump or two), a semi-retired
elderly gambler, and Bubba, the son of the couple who own the place,
who invited me to go Muddin' with him sometime before my visit
When a furniture maker friend suggested I stop in at a local
turning club meeting - held in a VFW room - I was made to feel at
home the minute I walked in the door.
And it's easy to strike up a conversation with Texans, unlike city
dwelling New Yorkers. And they don't hold it against you if you
don't drive a pickup - with or without a gun rack. And smoking
isn't a Scurge On The Town, nor is tilting back a couple, even in
public, assuming it isn't snowing or hailing. And folks don't bitch
and moan when the thermometer breaks the 85 degree, or 30
I'm not thrilled about the idea that they have a Death Sentence
Express Lane - but that's just my view.
So, hats off to Texans. I won't hold Dubya against them either
- since he's actually a New England Blue Blood, despite his
Aw Shucks, Shit Kicker fascade, Tejano disguise.