Our Life’s Soundtrack

This has been said before.

You do not come to my site for revelation.

You come here (I hope) looking for Texas-in-all-the-wrong-places.

Never mind that one.

I have an affinity for Willie, (as all Texans do)

Therefore, since we all have our ‘Sound-Tracks’, here is one from mine:

I hope you like it.

Cheers,

Lance

P.S. I have lived a reckless sort of life, but ya know what?

“There’s nothin’ I can do about it now.”

So… I rock on.

Do I have a choice?

Did I ever?

California on my Mind & Texas in my Heart

California

Loved it. Hated it. Few decades ago I could truthfully say, “Hey! I’ve spent half my life in California.” (See This Or This)

Now I can say, “Hey! I’ve spent most of my life in Dangerous Desolate Places.” (Middle East &  East Texas) That worm did turn some. (Go Here or There)

As a Native Texan, I am supposed to always hate California and yes, Yes to all you Texans out there: I know this. I get it. Put the rope down.

Yet I more love than hate California.

In California I learned to appreciate music, art, science, literature, hippies, beaches and blondes. My first kiss was not in California, but I didn’t miss that milestone by much–In California.

In Texas I learned to appreciate drankin’ whiskey and beer , smokin’ dope, playin’ football, chasin’ cheerleaders, and Raisin’ Hell.

Arriving home to Texas late 1968 folks made fun of my ‘California Accent’ if there even is such a thing. (There were no Valley Girls in the Sixties as far as I know). My ‘accent’ was ‘just the way normal people talked’ as far as I was concerned. Texans sounded funny to me (Blasphemy!)

My Attitude Adjustment didn’t take long to take.

In California I was a Little League Baseball Star. In Texas no one gave two shits about baseball. I had to learn football. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, but I had all those baseball skills which were not worth a cup of spit in Texas.

I love Texas and don’t get me wrong. But once in a while, when I see a photo or a news bit showing San Francisco, or San Diego, or a beach, or a blonde… I hear this guy singing:

Sometimes I even hear this blonde singing:

And I tear up. (Just a little bit) but then I throw on some Bob Wills and Remember Who I am.

Bob Wills

And thus remembering, I go out and buy a case of Lone Star Long Necks and listen to this guy:

And I Thank The Spirit of Sam Houston I Am A Texan.