Or perhaps "hasta la vista" would be more appropriate, considering our destination. However, given the somewhat malevolent connotation bestowed upon the latter phrase by Hollywood, let's stick with goodbye; I don't want to taint the sentiment here.
I was born in the heart of Dallas, raised in a suburb on its southwestern borders, and moved back to the big city in '92. Four years ago, my husband and I moved into our dream house here in East Dallas. Well, dream neighborhood anyway; the house has its share of "charms," to put it kindly. He's had his eye on this street for 20 years, so when we said we'd never move again, we meant it. Now, here we are pulling up stakes and heading west. We've always loved the Bay Area, so when an otherwise mundane chat with a West Coast acquaintance ultimately developed into an opportunity, we didn't think twice. We just started packing.
To be clear, we're not leaving for political reasons, as tempting as it has been at times. Any inherent political advantages will certainly be sopped up like gravy, but that's not our primary motive, and this is probably not the perfect time to capitalize anyway. I've heard Arnold called the worst governor in history, but since I'm not qualified to make a comprehensive comparison, suffice it to say that I’m a wee bit skeptical of that distinction, thus the poll below. Had this been a planned move, I'd have stayed more on top of what's going on out there, but I've had my hands full with my current governor and his beloved sport of humiliating me.
We've weathered many a political storm here, and had planned on staying for the long haul. In fact, one of our regrets is that we won't be here to help the colors finish changing. It has started already. I have always been a proud Texan, but never as proud as the day when Houston elected Annise Parker as its mayor. Following my shouts of joy upon hearing this news, I promptly broke down and sobbed with pride. As bass-ackwards as this state can be sometimes, there is hope. Currently there's a reddish purple hue hanging over us, but blue skies await one last big push, and mark my words: we’re gonna miss one hell of a party!
As difficult as it may be for some people here to understand, it's hard to say goodbye to Texas. Naturally, we'll miss our family and friends, our stomping ground, and other personal aspects of our life here. We'll miss the convenience and peace of mind of having our families nearby. We will miss this wooded little hideaway of East Dallas, our wonderful, primarily Democratic neighbors, and the night herons that raise their little ones in our trees each spring. We will miss Kinky Friedman (the entertainer and animal lover more so than the politician), and Robert Earl Keen. We will miss West Texas with its bustling serenity and mountainous backdrop, the diverse simplicity of Marfa, the sci-fi-like windmill farms, Wild Rose Pass, and the big blue sky of Presidio County.
And thunder. We will miss thunder.
Of course, there are a few things we will not miss. We will not miss our current governor. Not even a little bit. Our former governor, the one originally from Connecticut who used to run things down in Austin, then moved up to Washington, D.C. for a few years to screw things up real good, and now lives in my town -- we will not miss him either, nor his daddy, nor any airport, highway, library, or other current or future landmarks bearing their names. Bye.
We won't miss the summer heat and humidity, or the mosquito assaults that continue well into November. We won't miss the stark panoramas of dirt, concrete, and the occasional confederate bumper sticker on our daily commutes. And we will not miss Jerry Jones sightings.
But all of that aside, we still love Texas, and we'll fight from afar to help our fellow progressives reclaim it.
Meanwhile, we're moving on to our next dream, to a beautiful part of the world that we've always loved. As excited as I am about this new adventure, I'm not here to pat myself on the back. Between you and me, my enthusiasm is accompanied not only by sentimental melancholy, but also by sheer terror of the uncertainty that lies ahead. I don't think we can ever really know if we've made the right decisions, until they are all tallied up when the clock runs out. But if life were certain, I'm not sure what all the fuss would be about.
So long, Texas.