For the time being

Last week I mentioned that “Displaced Texan” describes my current status in life, and that I currently live in not-Texas. And let me say right now, that there is nothing wrong with my current not-Texas setting. Just let me say that for the time being.

I live in (gasp) Oklahoma. Yes, Oklahoma. The Sooner State. “Native America.” Land of state income tax, humidity, casinos, and state income tax (it bears mentioning twice.) There’s not anything wrong with Oklahoma; it’s not a bad place to live. In fact, we are thriving here. It’s just… not Texas.

∞

At times I am in complete denial of the fact that I live in Oklahoma. I am not (shudder) an Okie. I refuse. My husband is not an Okie. We are Texans. I am a Texan. Period. 

I just happen to live somewhere else for the time being.

Yes, I am a snob about Texas. When I’m asked where I’m from, my answer is always, “Texas, but I live in Oklahoma right now.” When asked where I live, I either say “Oklahoma,” or “Oklahoma, but I’m not from there,” depending on the setting. I don’t want that label, the “Okie” label. I mean, would you label Tiger Woods “mediocre?” Would you label John Wayne a “sissy?” Would you label Michael Jackson “normal?” No, no, and no! So don’t label me.

∞

Now, my daughter -- God love her -- is, I guess you could say, an Okie, though only because she was born in Oklahoma. But Samantha cannot help where she was born, and I console myself with the knowledge that she was conceived in Iraq (she’s adopted!), which sounds infinitely better than… well, you know. Besides, I think that rule about a-baby-of-American-parents-who-is-born-in-another-country-is-still-an-American rule applies to state citizenship, too.

∞

Let me reiterate that there isn’t anything wrong with Oklahoma, or any other state, for that matter. (In fact, I love Colorado, though they seem to hate Texans on principle.) It’s just, when you have the good fortune to be a Texan and were blessed to live in Texas for most of your life -- well, then there’s just not that much right with Oklahoma. Texas is bold, and brash, and big. It is the coolest-shaped state, and it used to be a country! Texas is an attitude, a state of mind. Texas is Texas!

∞

On the other hand, Oklahoma is… ok. Seriously, ok. That’s it, not more; just ok. Remember those old Oklahoma license plates? They read, “Oklahoma is ok.” Huh?

Yes, I get that the state abbreviation is OK and that that song ends with, “O-k-l-a-h-o-m-a. Oklahoma – Ok!” But license plates? Really? On one hand I can see how clever they were, but then again, not so much. I mean, way to strive for mediocrity!

How’s Oklahoma? Oh, you know, it’s… meh.

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And Sooners? Don’t get me started!

The grand scheme

Displaced Texan... How’s that for the name of a column? It’s fitting for, and descriptive of, my current status in life. “Displaced Texan” has been our email address since my husband and I moved from Texas, and if it would fit, I would have it on my license plate. I am a Texan through and through, and almost eight years of living in not-Texas have solidified that fact.

But not-Texas is subject matter for another week. First things first—

What a legacy I have, as a third-generation newspaper columnist! In fact, I’m the sixth in a distinguished line of columnists: grandfather, grandmother, mother, uncle, brother… They’re a great, though very intimidating, group, and I would rather die than disappoint any of them.

So, what am I doing here?

My mother asked -- begged, really -- me for years to write. And I’ve actually wanted to write a column for several years. So, while I’m not doing this out of a sense of guilt, or as a messed-up, too late attempt to make my mom proud, I do admit that her death earlier this year was my catalyst.

But still, what am I doing here?

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And when I told my brother that I wanted a column, he was fired up and very supportive. Of course, he soon asked what would the column be about; what did I have to offer? I immediately popped off a quick, smart-alecky response, referring to my predecessors’ columns, and then I stopped, because, duh, he was talking about business. And he takes business very seriously. 

Oh, the pressure!

So I pitched my column to him, and he told me to send two or three to him, and if you’re reading this, well, yea!

∞

Just what do I envision for this little corner of the newspaper? A Pot Pourri of Perspectives Indexing some of This Day‘s thoughts from The Paperboy‘s sister? Not so much. That’s a lot to live up to: a lot of people, a lot of history, a lot of memories. Besides, there really is no definitive answer to my brother’s what-will-it-be-about question. We’ll just knock around whatever suits us each week, ok? You know, things in the grand scheme of life.

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And speaking of the grand scheme of life, I noticed these words on the sign outside of a church as I was driving through Oklahoma City last week:

“Ever see a hearse pulling a U-Haul?”