Lone Star Love

Texas, you’re on my mind again.

You see, I love Portland but I haven’t been able to connect with people here like I did in the Lone Star State. Hell, it was easier to meet people in Los Angeles than in this beautiful and tree filled mountainous wonderland. But those I roamed the streets of L.A. with came with me one summer on a caravan across I-10 from Austin, Texas. I went to the City of Angels with some secret desire to make it despite being the shyest, worst self sales woman alive.

When I was a little girl I sat under the tables during preschool rather than chat with the other kids. Mom enrolled me in a ballet class at the age of five? Maybe six? I loved my sequined outfit, my slippers, my crown, but performing in front of people? No thank you! I was kicked out of that class in no time. Despite my love of performing for my family, the rest of the world as a critic was just too much for a little kid who covered her face when mom introduced her to strangers.

My ballet attire:

What’s with our genetic make up anyway? My older brother Sean talked to everybody when he was a kid. Mom would run around department stores in a panic trying to find him only to discover he had struck up a fifteen minute conversation with some saleslady in Sears. My little sister Colleen was an absolute ham. I’d dress her up and write skits for her to perform. She sang into a honey dipper and ate up all the attention.

But back to Texas...

I have heard so many times that you can leave Texas but it never leaves you. At work I’ve catalogued several “Texas Brag” type maps where the state basically encompasses the entire United States.

I found this little booklet at a garage sale in Albany, Oregon. “The First Completely Revised Edition of Texas Brags Collected by John Randolph” with new illustrations by Mark Storm and “Published for the enlightenment and entertainment of the world at large” in Hufsmith, Texas, 1950.

The man who owned it gave it to me for 10 cents. He obviously didn’t give one lick about Texas. Unlike me who as a fifth grader cared so much about my home state that I was talked into wearing a ruffled blue and white checkered skirt while I square danced in the Texas Sesquicentennial Celebration in 1986. Thank goodness I don’t have a picture of that event handy. I was a foot taller than my partner.

Something I couldn’t do as a kid in Spring, Texas, was take leisurely strolls around town. If I set out anywhere on foot it would be at least thirty minutes before I even made it out of my “subdivision” Terra Nova. Another thirty minutes would pass and maybe I would have reached Strack Intermediate School or the Kroger’s grocery store parking lot. Nothing too exciting for all that effort.

Portland is a walker’s dream come true.

Today the family and I headed around the city for some shopping. Inside my favorite thrift store, William Temple, I found this awesome $10 painting of an elephant. I call it "Ives Klein and Basquiat on a Safari".

I also purchased this wonderful frog king that I thought would have been more appropriate for my frog blog from a month or so ago.

Having done a little research on the piece, I discovered that this regal frog couldn’t have hopped into my life at a more apropos time. On his back is a circular artists stamp: Jan Barboglio. Turns out Ms. Barboglio is an artist based out of Texas. All of her pieces are made from hand cast iron.

Speaking of artists from Texas, I started out by participating in Rodeo Art competitions until the 9th grade. In 4th grade I won third place for a lovely crayola image of a horse drawn wagon traveling through a landscape reminiscent of areas of I-10 through New Mexico. In 6th grade I got first prize for this handsome piece.

Beside the shiny blue ribbon is my label which lists the drawing for $8.50. Someone out there is going to be down right mad they didn’t snatch this piece of Berretta ephemera up for such a bargain price when they had the chance. As of right now it’s priceless.