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I didn’t even know that there was a pledge of allegiance to the flag of Texas. Now don’t get me wrong – I am a Texan. That is my fundamental basic cultural identity. I never did get accustomed to being lumped in with “Americans” when I was in other countries: I always wanted to correct them and tell them I was a Texan (said with a French, Spanish, Arabic or whatever accent). I’m not even a Texan. I’m a West Texan. Period. So my chest swells at the mention of the Alamo or the big statue of Sam Houston. I am my father’s daughter. He taught me that there is no reason to go anywhere else because Texas has everything you would ever need–mountains, seaside, plains, desert, woods. So that’s that.

However, a couple of weeks ago, the GentlemanFriend and I were at a dinner in Schulenburg with about 200 other folks. We all stood and bowed our heads for a prayer, sang “America the Beautiful”, put our hands on our hearts or saluted and recited the “Pledge of Allegiance” and started to sit down, when we were asked to say the “Pledge of Allegiance to the Texas flag”. I looked around as I mumbled, “I pledge mumble mumble” and noticed that the GentlemanFriend also was mumbling. Later, we both confessed that we had never heard of that before.

Then this morning, I woke up thinking about it. If I pledge allegiance to Texas and our governor gets in a shooting match with the governor of Idaho, does this mean I’m bound to give up potatoes??? or do I really want to pledge allegiance to the Panhandle? It has never been my favorite part of my beloved state. And I’m not real fond of North Texas. I’m kind of okay with East and Central Texas and the Gulf Coast, but the truth is I could only give my full and deepest allegiance to West Texas.

So here I stand, hand on heart, mumbling and musing.

As I move closer to four score of life lived, I find myself with more ideas than ever…this blog is to share some of my musings about various things–from West Texas roads to folks in Algeria to my neighbors next door.

Mostly I’ll be talking about Texas and Texans, my culture bumps, interesting people, the thrill of learning Chinese and the soul-satisfaction of playing the 100 year old piano in the living room. And I’m pretty sure I’ll have something to say about the cats in my life too. These felines answer (or not) to the names of Luci and Fiona or the amazing sleeper cat – Cheetah. Oh, and I answer to the name of Carol Mae Archer. You can learn more about me by clicking here.

Now you might wonder where the name for this blog came from – it is from the last line in a poem I wrote a couple of years ago that was published in the Cenizo Journal.

Driving in West Texas

The motor hums

   as white fluffy clouds grip the edge of the windshield

   and pull the car along the asphalt ribboned road…

While long-legged field rows run alongside

     only to dive into ragged fields of mesquite

       and sticky grass

                clutched in cliché rocks.

Singing going to Balmorhea       going to Balmorhea…

then

humming beside the ditch of water running past the scary deep pool

and climbing up round and round red rocks thrust through

    eons of crust

to a time in recent past when lives were whispered in

        West Texas winds.

Carol Mae Archer 2014 Third Quarter. Cenizo Journal

So thank you for taking the time to read this post. I’ll be back in a few weeks with the burning question of:

To rally or not to rally around the Texas flag.