It's My TV….It's My Peanut Butter

I am not a singer.  No false modesty, I don’t have a good voice and I find it a very frustrating instrument.  I sing along to the radio in the car, but the music is so loud I can’t hear how bad I am, so it’s okay.  When I don’t have something to drown me out, put it to you this way: my cat howls at me.  But, this week I realized that the small shower here at home has these awesome acoustics that are just too good to waste.  Since the piano won’t fit in the shower and it’s not good to get a wood oboe soaking wet, my only way to exercise the sounds of the space is with those pesky vocal chords.  After many attempts to reproduce any number of songs, I have found exactly one song that I can sing even moderately well without the assistance of a radio to drown out my weak points:

“New San Antonio Rose”

This signature song of Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys ought to be familiar to serious country music fans.  If you are interested in rounding out your musical education with the high-points of all the major genres and sub-genres, this song ought to be somewhere on your to-listen list as a grand example of Western swing.  If you are from Texas I suspect that you might be like me where one day you hear this tune playing and you begin singing along, never realizing until that moment that you knew the words…

It was called “New” San Antonio Rose because the “old” version Bob Wills originally put together didn’t have lyrics. With the addition of words, they called it “New San Antonio Rose.”  Allegedly, the tune was, at least in part, developed when Wills decided to play the tune “The Spanish Two-Step” backwards.  FTW?  For shits and giggles I sat down and tried to play something backwards on the piano.  Um.  Fail.  So points to Bob for being some kind of crazy genius with his fiddle.

It’s been covered more times than I can count (I can name at least 5 renditions off the top of my head) by a plethora of artists and in multiple languages.  It helped rocket Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys into the national spotlight back in the day.

In the grand tradition of country-western music (and plenty of other musical genres, but this one gets the most shit for it) it’s about a lost love.  In the grand tradition of Texas, it’s dance-able.  And it’s about Texas.  All these elements have made it a favorite of mine for years.  The shocker was the part about how sing-able it is.  Maybe I should have suspected it with the number of artists who’ve performed the song, but I didn’t.  And I sure didn’t expect it to be the one song that I can maintain in tune start to finish.  Maybe it’s that the spread of the range is just right.  Maybe the tempo makes it easier to control the changes.  I don’t know.  All I know is that I usually sing it through 3 times in the shower–and the cat’s okay with it.

Would we drink coffee with Molly Ivins?

Kristy:  Um… I feel like I should have a cute, colloquial way of saying “Hell yeah” but Cammy’s the one who’s good at that.  So I’ll just say Hell yeah.  I have to give Cammy the credit of introducing me to Molly, and I’m incredibly grateful for that.  For one thing, it’s another case of owing her a cup of something (coffee or something stronger if she prefers) for the hours of amusement she’s given me.  Not to mention a couple of readings I assigned to my composition classes.  Also, there’s a lot I’d like to talk with her about and commiserate on.  Being the liberal daughter of a Texas conservative, every time Molly talks about her father it sounds… very familiar.  But what I’ve always loved about Molly went way beyond political orientation–it was a lot more about her willingness to critique everyone and her ability to point out the humor in everything.  So you can’t tell me it wouldn’t be delightful to people watch with her.

Cammy:  By cute colloquialism, I’m assuming Kristy means something along the lines of “Does a wild bear shit in the woods?”  So to this, I’ll say,”Did Han shoot first?”  YES.   Even though I’m most definitely not a liberal, I still love Molly.  She would lampoon anyone on either side of the aisle with sharp insight and the kind of humor that would literally leave my sides aching–and I love equal opportunity mockery.  Granted, she didn’t have to work hard, at least not when she was covering her native Texas politics.  The utter madhouse of the Lone Star State was (and still is) comedy gold.  She bucked trends, pissed some people off (a lot of people) and even when I totally disagreed with her politics, I had to give her credit for her style.  She painted some of the most accurate pictures of Texas I’ve ever read, and shared them with the world*.  For all that, I owe her several rounds of the beverages of her choice.  I’d love to hear her tell stories–because Lord knows she has them–of the insanity of Austin with the Lege in session that didn’t quite make the article/book cut.   And how pissed is she that she’s not around to address the wonder of Governor Good-Hair trying to go national on us?  I want to know if she truly has the same kind of misguided, twisted pride that our state gave the world people as nutty as H. Ross Perot.  I also want to talk about our mutual love of Texas.  As she once said, “ I dearly love the state of Texas, but I consider that a harmless perversion on my part, and discuss it only with consenting adults.”  I’m always ready to talk about how we can love a state that manages to thrive in a state of total fucked-up insanity, especially with someone, who like me, left the state, got educated on the East Coast….and still managed to love that misfit of a state.

Kristy:  For the record “Does a wild bear shit in the woods?” and “Did Han shoot first?” are what we folklory types call “sarcastic interrogatives.” Totally counts as a cut colloquialism.

*See this article in The Nation: http://www.thenation.com/article/texas-america

Would We Have Coffee with Susanna Dickinson?

Would we have coffee with Nanci Griffith?

Cammy: Maybe we should co-blog about how Nanci Griffith is the Queen of Awesome and listening to “Gulf Coast Highway” will cure cancer (okay, maybe not, but if someone told me that it did, I could totally believe that)

Kristy: To be fair, neither you or I has cancer yet, and we listen to “Gulf Coast Highway” a lot, so we don’t know that it isn’t a preventative. I’m just sayin‘

–conversation circa 2008

At long last, I have finally seen all of the 2004 rendition of The Alamo.

I’m not saying it’s a bad flick.  It’s not great, but I’ve sat through much worse.  And I’m not going to say it’s the least accurate representation of a historical event I’ve ever watched–hell, it’s not even the least accurate rendition of this particular historical event that I’ve ever watched–but it’s definitely not a movie you want watch while in a room with two Texans who are familiar with said event.

I know that historical accuracy has to be sacrificed in the name of storytelling and structure, but that’s really not going to stop my Dad and I from yelling”Bullshit!” at the screen over and over and repeatedly saying, “Well, actually, I believe….” and then whipping out the laptop to Google and confirm ourselves.  We devolved into the worst form of know-it-alls who completely obliterated the movie watching experience.  It would be like watching a sci-fi flick while sitting next to Dr. Brennan from Bones (in an odd ball connection, Emily Deschanel actually shows up in this movie as Rosanna Travis, albeit a Rosanna Travis who looks kinda consumptive).

We actually held ourselves together until cannons got involved.  Then we started with the innocent musing on the utilizations of exploding projectiles (no actual assertions of wrongdoing here, but we had some questions…).  But by the time the Mexicans were coming at the walls we were definitely skewering things.  ”That guy wasn’t down there!”  ”They didn’t breach into those rooms until later!” “That is NOT how Almeron Dickinson died!”

The aftermath of the battle only made it worse.  I was ready to punch someone when it came to the delivery of the news to Houston (“Where the hell is Susanna?!?”)  Dad nearly jumped up out of his chair while watching the Battle of San Jacinto (to which I had to say, “Seriously?  You’re going to get pissed over the distance where they started shooting, more than over the entire Crockett ending??”).  At one point we even turned on one another (“They didn’t have a cannon at San Jacinto!”  ”No, they had TWO!” “Did not!”  ”Did so!  The Twin Sisters!”)

And while we both ended the experience shaking our heads at all of the little things they could have done to make it right without sacrificing the story in the process (and Mom was thanking God we were finally done)–it was strangely fun.  I honestly think the movie would have fallen a bit flat if not for Dad and I having so much to rip into.  After all, watching The Alamo is kinda like watching Titanic:  you know the ending.

Just after I’d posted Sunday night about the giant penguins, I realized I really should have hit two other big anniversaries for this early October.  Running on the theory of “better late than never” augmented by “better a little late than 6 months from now”:

-October 2 marked the 175 Anniversary of The Battle of Gonzales, the first battle of the Texas Revolution.  Short version:  The Anglo-Texian settlement at Gonzales, in the Green DeWitt colony, had a cannon.  The Mexican government, fearing revolt (from Texas and multiple other Mexican states) came to take said cannon back.  The Texians weren’t having any of that (because, Comanche = bad news and cannon = answer).  First the settlers buried it to hide it, and then they dug it up and used it against the Mexican troops sent to retrieve it, while flying a flag with a picture of the cannon and the words “Come And Take It.”  So just in case you think that the near-fanaticism over the right to bear arms is a new thing to the fabric of Texas, it’s not.  And neither is being a little bit of a smart ass to one’s enemies.  The Texans won, the battle, and eventually, the revolution that followed from it.

-October 3, 20th Anniversary of German Unification:  A scant 4 years before Oct. 3, 1990, my Dad had been going through a map of the two Germany’s with me and trying to help my 6 year old brain understand the whole Iron Curtain thing, and painting a bleak picture of life on the other side, with particular focus on Germany.  I asked Dad if maybe there was a chance that one of these days they might put Germany back together.  His answer was, “No, I don’t think so.  Not in my lifetime and probably not in yours.”   It’s still one of the clearest memories I have before age 10.  Just as clear was my memory of standing in front of the TV watching people rip up the wall about 3 years later and Dad simply looking at me and saying, “Cammy, I can’t believe it, but I was wrong”–both of us knowing exactly what moment he was talking about.  But even the wall tumbling wasn’t the complete repair.  That didn’t happen until 3 October of 1990 when, at the stroke of midnight, East Germany didn’t so much turn into a pumpkin as cease to exist.

With two events like this?  I’m beginning to think early October is apparently a ripe time if you want massive political upheaval of one sort or another.

(It’s also a good time to drink beer).

I’ve spent 3 days trying to find time to sit down with my recently purchased copy of the John Ford classic Rio Grande.  Work and phone calls keep interrupting, but, as I write this it appears I might get to finish the film tonight.

If you were not subjected to a lot of westerns as a child the way  I was, you might not know this film.  What you might know is the movie that Rio Grande was made to finance: the John Wayne – Maureen O’Hara classic The Quiet Man.  At time time John Ford was pressing to make The Quiet Man, westerns were fantastic money makers.  Republic pictures was unsure of the returns they might get out of a pastoral little film set in Ireland, so they demanded Ford make them a western starring Wayne and O’Hara.

It turned out that The Quiet Man was one of the highest grossing pictures Republic ever had, and while Rio Grande was no flop, today it’s normally just a footnote in the history of The Quiet Man.

However, it’s a disservice to Rio Grande to dismiss it so lightly.  In its own right it’s a great movie.  It’s the first time Maureen O’Hara and John Wayne–an undeniably awesome screen couple–ever appeared together in a movie.  In the grand scheme of movie history, that alone means something.

The greatness did not stop with the casting.  In typical John Ford fashion, it’s a movie that’s chock fully  things to discover with each watching.  You can follow the troubled romantic recovery of Kathleen and Kirby Yorke–a married couple who’ve been estranged since they were on opposites sides in the War Against Northern Aggression.  There’s the broader troubled situation of Indian raiding.  There’s Trooper Tyree, avoiding arrest for manslaughter in what sounds like a “he needed killin’” situation.  While it contains some of the cliche of cowboys-and-Indians, it’s got far more depth than many other westerns of the time, in part from some of the darker moments, including the rather somber start of the film which depicts Army wives waiting to meet a slow train of soldiers, some wounded, returning to the encampment.

And in between all of these are the little moments, from good natured brawls, grown men being utterly berated by their young nieces, to green-horn young troopers accidentally shooting fellow soldiers in the butt while cleaning a rifle.  Even after this many viewings, I’m still finding little visual or verbal quips I’d missed or forgotten that bring a giggle again.  It’s also the source of one too many quotes that my father and I like to toss around (“Yo-oooh!”  ”Git ‘er done!” –yes, this catch phrase FAR predates Larry the Cable Guy– “UNCLE TIMMY!” “Don’t Uncle Sam know they grow beef in these parts?” )

It doesn’t hurt to have the Sons of the Pioneers doing one of my favorite versions of “I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen” and “Down By the Glenside” either.  And of course, the setting (though not the filming location) is Texas.  Always a winner with me (even if the part of Texas is played by Moab, Utah).

Ultimately, it’s just as lucky that The Quite Man existed so that Rio Grande now exists as vice versa.

Cammy: Would I have coffee with the man who led the attack on the Alamo?  The quintessential “bad-guy” in Texas history?  Oh, hell yeah, I would!  I’ve wondered for years exactly what tenor his brand of insanity took.  Clearly he was a megalomaniac, but was he just plain crazy to boot? How would he attempt to justify his back and forth, in and out, this-side then that-side behavior in so many events in Mexican history?  There was so much more to this guy than his role as the adversary in the Texas revolution, and I’d give my eye teeth to try and get him to give up more information.  Granted, I’d take it all with a large amount of salt.  I’ve no doubt the man would be a master at bullshitting to impress.  I’m sure he’d be more than happy to talk about himself, but I’m not going to bank on any of it being true.
Kristy: Um… I think I’m gonna go with no.  I’m tempted for all the reasons Cammy mentioned above.  From an historical perspective it would be beyond fascinating and probably help clear things up.  But I just don’t know that I can do it.  Not so much for the whole leading a couple massacres angle–I already agreed to have coffee with Henry VIII and Elizabeth I about whom the same could more or less be said.  I’m afraid of the legendary temper.  Granted, based on his political success, the man had to be able to turn on the charm when needed.  It’s just to hard to know which personality would show up for coffee.  I’m going to break with my normal character and take the safer option.  But I’m totally going to try to get video or audio of Cammy’s coffee with him.

Cammy: Hey!  When did you steal my self-preservation instinct?!?

The State Bar of Texas generally goes with a sort of “theme” for its annual meetings.  Not an all-encompassing theme, but something usually something to highlight in a special series of talks/CLE courses.  Last year I was a bit disappointed.  It was all Lincoln, and, honestly, while there are things about Lincoln I really admire, as a total package, I’m just not wild about the guy.

But, just like this years meeting location was better than last years (Ft. Worth is always better than Dallas), so was the theme.

In a stroke of brilliant timing this year’s meeting coincided with the 50th anniversary of the publication of To Kill a Mockingbird*.  The result?  A series of brilliant talks on Atticus Finch, one of the quintessential examples of the ethical attorney.

It was absolutely brilliant.  I never knew that there were than many grown men who could get that emotional over a fictional character.  We’re talking about powerful lawyers, well known in the non-negligible universe of Texas attorneys who were tearing up as they discussed scenes from both the book and the movie, and how Atticus is one of the best examples an attorney could have when it comes to the kind of behavior which the Bar preaches (but which lawyers do not always attain).

What Would Atticus Do?

Dedication to the client, service to the poor, respect for the law and the unwaivering belief in the justice system as something that should be equally accessible to all.   All the ethics lessons that the more boring CLE lectures try to shove down your throat are delivered in a single novel most people read in junior high school.  It was humbling.

Of course, Atticus’s ethics lessons extend beyond his example for lawyers.  We all got the same lessons he delivered to Scout (or should have) when we read it back in our formative years.  But perhaps a more subtle lesson he delivers to non-attorneys is the reminder about the positives of this profession.  After all, I love a good lawyer joke as much as the next person, but when you tell the joke about school bus half-full of lawyers going over the cliff (not enough lawyers), you’re probably not thinking of Atticus Finch in the group, are you?

*For any of you out there who are either A) not from the USA or B) have been dwelling under the great rock of ignorance, this is a great time to pick up a copy of the book and read it.  You need to.  Really.

It disturbs me sometimes how we Texans tend to equate state borders with distance.  For the most part, except for those on the very outer edges of the state, anything beyond the border of Texas is insanely far.  Within the borders might be “quite a ways,” but nothing too shocking.

This thought process is not without merit.  When you’re in a place like Austin, it’s a long damn drive just to get outside of Texas, no matter which direction you head.  But this week, as I’ve been down from Missouri, attending the State Bar of Texas Annual meeting, it’s really hit home how skewed that sort of thinking really is.  Over and over I met people at the meeting who were genuinely shocked that I’d come “all the way from Missouri.”  Even though they understood that I was licensed in Texas and needed my CLE, it was the idea of traveling such a distance that seemed most surprising to them.

Granted, Kansas City’s a bigger jump than Oklahoma City, but let’s be realistic.  It’s 440-some odd miles from the Metroplex to Kansas City.  At this same convention there were lawyers in from all over Texas.  Down in The Valley, up in Amarillo, and out in El Paso.  While it was acknowledged that they had a long drive, no one seemed shocked that they would travel so far….despite the fact that the folks from El Paso?  Yeah, they came over 100 miles further to get there than I did.

Apparently, distance isn’t miles, it’s when you cross over into another state.  Who knew?