I drove my parents to their cabin this week. My mom is having some terrible pain in her jaw and wasn’t sure she was up to drive, and my dad doesn’t see well enough to drive anymore.
Dud was awfully quiet all through the daily dissemination of anything on page one of the Valley Weekly Miracle, which wasn’t like him at all. Just sucked down caffeine and silently shook his head now and then.
The deadline to register to vote in the Texas Democratic and Republican primary elections is Feb. 5. Voters on March 5 will choose their nominees for president, U.S. Senator, all 38 U.S. House members from Texas, and a number of other state and local offices, from the Texas Supreme Court to district attorneys, sheriffs and county commissioners.
Bells are ringing and children are singing. It’s finally Christmastime in Texas! There’s no better place to enjoy the merriment of the season than in the town of Grapevine — our very own North Pole. Located in the heart of the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex, Grapevine has been officially designated as the “Christmas Capital of Texas” for its annual community-wide effort to put on more than 1,400 holiday events in a 40-day stretch beginning after Thanksgiving.
It’s the time of year when I look back and see where I’ve been and wonder where I’m going. On the shortest days of the year, I like to do a little recalibration.
After the Texas Legislature spent much of 2023 in session, a bevy of new laws go into effect on New Year’s Day, though some have been delayed by lawsuits challenging their constitutionality. The Austin American-Statesman reported on SB 17, a new law that institutes a ban on programs and policies “designed or implemented in reference to race, color or ethnicity” at Texas public universities or colleges — commonly known as diversity, equity and inclusion, or DEI.
In the streets of Bogalusa, La., a sadly familiar scene unfolds — the mournful wail of sirens, the piercing flash of blue lights and another community shaken by the harsh crack of gunfire. This is a recurring nightmare echoing across Louisiana, reflecting a national crisis that grips the heart of America.
The subject came up spontaneously at a recent meeting of the New Mexico Cowboy Curmudgeon Coalition, where our motto is: “If we actually existed, would anyone really care?” It came about because of the time of year and the spirit of Christmas, and was encouraged by other spirits, of a more … well … bottled variety.
The children were in the pew in front of me. We had not arrived early enough at my sister’s church for the Christmas Eve service to secure a seat in the back, so we were in the fourth row. The first row is never used by anyone; the second row is only for people who arrive impossibly late. The third row is, for all intents and purposes, the front row, and that’s where these two wild-looking children were.
Now before you can sneak away, here comes that pharaoh of the feed-store, that baron of the bunkhouse, that titan of the tack room …Windy Wilson. Well, t’other day I meandurated around town until I crept into Sarah’s bookstore.